I Prepared The Upper Room
For Our Lord's Last Supper - A Poem

 I walked through streets both still and bare,
A jar of water I did bear,
An Essene’s way, a quiet sign,
For those who seek the pure, divine.

The Teacher’s word, with solemn grace,
Had called me to a sacred place—
To find a room, an Upper floor,
Where love would reign forevermore.

The water jar, upon my side,
Was more than just a humble guide;
It marked the path, Prepared the way,
For what would come that holy day.

I climbed the stairs, with careful hand,
The weight of mystery near at hand;
I swept the room, the lamp I lit,
For One who in this space would sit.

The bread, the wine, the table spread,
For Him who soon would break the bread,
And share a cup of life divine,
A sign of love, beyond all time.

The room was quiet, yet in me,
I felt the weight of what would be—
The Supper that would bless and bind,
A covenant for all mankind.

I did not know the plan so deep,
But in that space, my heart did keep
A sense that here, in this small room,
The world would meet its saving Groom.

I, Essene, with jar in hand,
Prepared the feast at His command;
And though my role may fade from sight,
It paved the way for endless light.

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