SONG OF SONGS: CHAPTER TWO CONT. (Song Two)

Her Beloved was not confined by space or circumstance. His love reached her wherever she was, breaching the divisions between worlds. * The winter had passed and the confusing rains, the murky thoughts, have also moved on. * Inspired by the rich spiritual symbolism of the commentary of Malbim.

by Rabbi Boruch Merkur

In the secluded courtyard of the palace, time had stretched out languidly. The maiden had grown accustomed to the confined elegance of her surroundings. The seasons had shifted—autumn into a whisper of spring—and now, the month of splendor had arrived. It was during this significant time that she heard it: a voice echoing across vast distances, an unmistakable sound she knew to be of her Beloved.

"Listen! My beloved is coming, leaping over mountains, bounding over hills."

The words were not merely poetic but resonated with an esoteric wisdom. Her Beloved, it seemed, moved through different states of existence, from lofty peaks of unimaginable heights to rolling hills much closer to her current reality. This leaping and bounding were not just geographical but metaphysical shifts. It was as if he was demonstrating his omnipresence, making his way from the utmost transcendental spheres down to the tangible world.

In a moment, she grasped the underlying message: her Beloved was not confined by space or circumstance. His love reached her wherever she was, breaching the divisions between worlds. And just as he had bridged these metaphysical spaces, she felt an urge to transcend her own confines, to venture beyond the courtyard, to explore the vineyards that lay just outside the walls of her current existence.

The call of her Beloved filled her with an urge to journey out, to leave the familiar and go into what lay beyond, but not too far. After all, she still remained within the bounds of the royal city, even if she stepped out into its vineyards. Yet, in doing so, she sensed a temporary separation from her earthly guardians—the daughters of Jerusalem. These maidens, representatives of earthly constraints, remained focused on momentary tasks, their attention diverted.

Even as her feet touched the soil of the vineyards, the celestial maiden felt an inner union with her Beloved, a connection that lasted until the dawn light spread across the sky. As the sun ascended, the daughters of Jerusalem returned to their roles, and she sensed her Beloved withdraw, ascending back to his lofty realms. Yet the love remained, filling her existence with both an enduring warmth and the promise of future unity. And so, despite the departure, the wisdom imparted in their brief encounter remained, teaching her about the limitless reaches of love and the sacred interplay between the earthly and the divine.

The maiden feels a presence, elusive yet palpable, like the mysterious allure of a gazelle or a young stag glimpsed fleetingly between trees. She knows her Beloved is near, just beyond the wall that surrounds her home. Though she cannot see Him, she senses Him, standing steadfast like a guardian ensuring that the very stones of her abode remain in place.

As the light shifts and the day deepens, she feels a change. She's drawn to her window, where the sunlight filters through, casting a warm glow on the wooden floor. It’s as if eyes are upon her—not in scrutiny but in gentle watchfulness. Her soul tingles with a newfound understanding, as if distant yet profound insights have been silently whispered into her innermost being.

Then, almost imperceptible, a closer gaze. As if the window glass has thinned into a sheer lattice, she feels her Beloved's attention pierce through even finer barriers. She imagines His gaze extending, leaning through the very lattice, reaching into her inner sanctum. A rush of warmth envelops her. It's more than wisdom or enlightenment; it's a sacred union of souls, as if His essence has blended with hers in an indescribable communion.

The maiden realizes that her Beloved has always been near, but in different shades of closeness. First as a protector of her physical world, then as a beacon illuminating her mind, and now, most intimately, as the harmonious chord that vibrates in the same frequency as her innermost soul. Each stage, an invitation to draw nearer, to know and be known more deeply, until all barriers dissolve into irrelevance.

At first, her senses stir as if touched by a far-off melody. The presence of her Beloved wafts toward her like a gentle breeze, subtle yet unmistakable. His voice first reaches her from a distance, not yet sharp, but a soft vibration that rouses her soul. "Arise," he calls out as if inviting her from afar. His summons is a herald for her to prepare herself, to ascend to a state of being worthy of divine dialogue.

Then, the tenor of his voice changes, growing more intimate, clearer. "Come away, my darling, my fair one," he says, no longer distant but directly speaking to her. The words penetrate her core, inviting her to break free from the mundane chamber she finds herself confined within—her corporeal existence.

"Darling," he had always called her, an endearing term that evoked the bond of friendship they shared. Now, he adds, "my fair one," marking a transformation. The additional term speaks volumes, indicating that his love for her isn't just about companionship; it is also about her intrinsic beauty, her true essence. She comprehends that being fair in his eyes is not superficial; it represents her spiritual worth, the beauty of her soul that has now become visible to him. She feels it; she is not just a companion to him but someone whose internal grace complements his own.

For her, these words are a signal of a nuanced progression—from preparation to engagement, from distance to closeness, and from companionship to a deeper, more intimate love. This shift symbolizes a new chapter in her spiritual journey, where her Beloved not only guards her but recognizes her innate beauty, inviting her to come away from her mundane confinements.

Awakened by his beckoning voice and enthralled by his intimate words, she understands that he is guiding her out of her limitations, urging her to step into the fullness of her spiritual identity. Her Beloved sees her—truly sees her—and in doing so, invites her to see herself anew.

And so, with a heart pounding from both trepidation and excitement, she prepares to rise, to heed his intimate call, and to step beyond the familiar walls that have confined her. She readies herself to enter a state where her soul will touch the Divine in a manner that neither distance nor barriers can diminish.

The season of dormancy is over; the rains that often follow have also receded, leaving the field ripe for cultivation. The Soul, likened to this fertile ground, is ready to awaken. Her season of winter, where her spiritual faculties rested under a blanket of snow, is behind her. She endured a spiritual winter, a period of internal retreat where her capacities seemed frozen, only to regenerate and prepare for the season of growth.

Her Beloved, the Divine, whispers to her, "For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone." He assures her that the period of spiritual dormancy is over, and now is the time for her to blossom anew. The same field that seemed barren is now ready to yield fruit.

But this isn't an immediate leap from winter to spring, from unknowing to knowing. The rains that follow winter serve as a transitional period. They muddy the terrain, mixing clarity and confusion, much like the stage where her imagination, not yet fully refined, clouds the light of her higher understanding. In the natural world, rain nourishes but also clouds; likewise, her intellectual faculties are waking up but are not yet clear.

Then the clouds disperse. The rains have done their part, nurturing the seeds deep within the soil and within her soul. The atmosphere clears, and the sun — representing Divine illumination — shines its light more potently on the field, causing the well-rested seeds to sprout. Her thoughts purify, and she reaches a moment where her internal climate is conducive for spiritual revelations.

The Master of the Universe tells her that not only has her winter passed, but the confusing rains, the murky thoughts, have also moved on. Her season for growth, both within and without, has come. She's in her spiritual spring, a time for blossoming, for showing the fruits of what was once hidden.

Like the great prophets, there may be moments when the light shines continually, or there may be flashes of insight separated by intervals. But her winter and rains have passed; she is now open to the skies.

Her Beloved, the Divine, nods with affirmation. Her time for harvest approaches. She hears the call not with her ears but with her soul, as if every fiber of her being resounds with the eternal words, "For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone." And so, she readies herself, sensing that the next chapter of her spiritual journey is about to unfold.

In the land, the scene has transformed. Blossoms unfurl their petals, breaking free from the cold earth. No longer do the trees stand barren; they now don the robes of spring. The air, once crisp and still, now carries the melody of birds who had remained silent throughout winter. Among these is the turtledove, its song distinct, filling the air with a promise of change.

The changes in the land mirror deeper shifts within. The woman, whose spirit had long been lying dormant, awakens. Her soul, forever bound to her body, has now entered a phase of singing—of manifesting the Divine wisdom she holds within. A higher form of her soul, which often takes its leave during life's colder seasons, now finds its way back, lured by her newly resonant spiritual melody. The land and the soul are both in a state of bloom; one reflects the other, both a canvas and a mirror of heavenly artistry.

Her Beloved observes this transformation with delight. To him, her emerging spiritual beauty reflects the blossoms in the fields. He appreciates the nuanced symphony of her soul, now vocal, echoing the return of the turtledove to their land. The dormant seeds of Divine attributes, sown in the garden of her soul, have not only sprouted but are now in full bloom. He senses the presence of her higher soul returning, akin to the turtledove resuming its song, and knows that the season of their unity and mutual growth has dawned.

It's a time of singing, both for the birds and for the souls. The song of the turtledove, a celestial tune, is now in harmony with her own soul’s melody. As the turtledove heralds a season of warmth and renewal, her newly awakened spiritual wisdom announces a golden period of enlightenment, a rekindling of heavenly love.

In this season of renewal, the time for pruning has arrived. Like the branches that need cutting back to produce lush, abundant fruit, the woman understands that refinement is necessary for spiritual elevation. It is a conscious surrender to facilitate blossoming. She willingly trims away her limitations, making room for virtues to flourish.

They both understand that this isn't mere happenstance; it's a divinely ordained cycle, as reliable as the seasons but as miraculous as the first bloom. It is the natural result of their devotion, their holy work during the colder, silent months that now yields its radiant fruits. And in the sounds of the turtledove, in the blossoms that enrich the earth, and in the love that draws them ever closer, they find the poetry of a shared existence, a life in spiritual harmony.

Amidst blossoming branches and fragrant leaves, the fig tree emerges into a new phase of life, its green figs nearing ripeness. The vineyards too share in this awakening, their tendrils heavy with a sweet aroma. This is a decisive moment, a cusp of transformation, a call for a fresh chapter from nature itself.

"Arise, my darling; my fair one, come away!"

Her Beloved, the embodiment of wisdom, beckons her. Until now, her intellectual and spiritual capacities have been like hidden treasures, waiting for the right moment to emerge. In the renewed world around her, these inner gifts can no longer remain concealed.

The vines symbolize her deeper wisdom, akin to prophecy, also ready to flourish. Her Beloved assures her that the obstacles have cleared; winter's chill and inertia are behind them. Now is the time to seize the blessings of spring and summer, to bring forth the harvest of her internal landscape.

He whispers, "The season for your flourishing has arrived."

Feeling the stirrings within, she rises. The air is thick with promise, and she cannot help but move toward it. Together, they step into a world rich with opportunity, where what was once hidden comes to light, and a fresh season of spiritual and intellectual fruitfulness begins.

Nestled among rocks and protected by the cliffs, she finds herself in a concealed alcove—a sanctuary in the wilderness. In this secluded space, she is like a dove in a rocky haven, invisible and unheard, her voice lost to the sounds of nature

"O my dove, in the cranny of the rocks, hidden by the cliff," her Beloved's voice seems to echo through the hidden corners of her soul. "Let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is comely."

Her Beloved is not merely speaking of physical beauty or auditory sweetness. No, the face he yearns to see is the reflection of her analytical intellect—a treasure that offers insight into the true nature of reality. And the voice? It is the ethical wisdom that guides her actions, whispering ever so softly what ought to be done. The sweetness and comeliness of which he speaks refer to a soul refined by both discernment and virtue.

She pauses, feeling his call penetrate her sanctuary. In this pivotal moment, she finds herself at the intersection of two distinct but interrelated faculties—the analytical and the practical. On one hand, she holds the intellectual wisdom previously bestowed upon her, akin to the glistening facets of a crystal. On the other, she carries the practical wisdom to apply this knowledge authentically, guiding her through the labyrinth of moral choices.

It's as if her Beloved pleads, "Come forth from your hidden alcove. Show me your intellectual face, that true self imbued with discerning wisdom. Let me hear your moral voice, steering your actions with righteous intent."

Emerging from her secluded sanctuary, she becomes acutely aware of her surroundings—the hustle and bustle of city life, the blend of righteousness and waywardness, wisdom and folly. Yet, it is precisely here, in the heart of complexity and clamor, that her wisdom and virtue find their greatest test and their most compelling expression.

As she steps forth, she feels her intellect sharpen, her ethical voice resonate. She is now ready to navigate through the city’s cacophony, guided by an intellect refined and a virtue fortified, seeking to bring a sense of sacredness into the mundane, of ethical integrity into a world often lacking it.

Her face, unseen in the hidden alcove, now shines with clarity. Her voice, once muted, now rings with unmistakable sweetness. And her Beloved, witnessing this transformation, finds her more comely and her voice more sweet than ever before. They understand that it is in the realm of action, amid the noise and challenges of life, that true beauty and sweetness are not only revealed but also fulfilled.

In a secluded space between vineyards, she finds herself alone with her Beloved. The vineyards serve not just as a sanctuary for their love but also as an open chamber, allowing their companionship to flourish. Yet, the Daughter of Jerusalem remains ever watchful. She is aware of the little foxes that ruin vineyards, the small disruptions that could break the harmony of their shared moments.

The woman, attuned to the potential hazards that may threaten their blooming love, orchestrates a plan. She turns to the Daughters of Jerusalem who keep watch over the area. "Catch us the foxes," she urges, "the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—for our vineyard is in blossom." She does not only speak for herself or her Beloved; she speaks for the unity they have found, a unity that has now blossomed into something sacred.

Her words serve a dual purpose. As the women set off on their quest to catch the foxes, the disturbance to the vineyard is prevented, maintaining the sanctity of their love. It also offers her and her Beloved a brief interlude alone, enveloped in the now peaceful vineyard.

The woman recognizes that these little foxes are not merely nuisances; they are agents of chaos that could tarnish what is pure. The little foxes are like minor transgressions, almost imperceptible but capable of causing irreparable damage to something beautiful and flourishing. These foxes, these little disruptions, are like those moments of doubt or small betrayals that can creep into the hearts and break them from the inside. She knows that their love, symbolized by the blossoming vineyard, needs to be shielded from such diminutive yet destructive elements.

In ancient times, the ruin of a vineyard could serve as an act of vengeance or retaliation. Just as Samson once unleashed foxes to destroy Philistine vineyards, the loss of her former betrothal could have been a motive for these little foxes—these trifles—to appear and wreak havoc. She knows they must be caught and dealt with before they spoil the sanctity of their love.

While the Daughters of Jerusalem venture out, their absence provides her and her Beloved with a secluded space. Yet, even in their solitude, they are never entirely alone; the vineyard, full of life, reflects their love and the divine harmony that suffuses it. As they stand amidst the vines, her eyes meeting those of her Beloved, they both understand that their love, like a vineyard in full bloom, is both fragile and resilient, vulnerable yet strong, constantly threatened yet eternally hopeful.

Through her actions, she has not only preserved the physical space around them but also safeguarded their emotional and spiritual realms. Both know that their love, encapsulated in the metaphor of a vineyard in blossom, must be cherished, nurtured, and most importantly, protected from the little foxes that seek to destroy it.

In a secluded space between vineyards, she finds herself alone with her Beloved. The vineyards serve not just as a sanctuary for their love but also as an open chamber, allowing their companionship to flourish. Yet, the Daughter of Jerusalem remains ever watchful. She is aware of the little foxes that ruin vineyards, the small disruptions that could break the harmony of their shared moments. Her attention to the vineyard is reminiscent of an ancient poem from the Song of Songs, a biblical narrative that encapsulates love in the very environment that surrounds her. Just as the woman in the biblical text is vigilant about the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, so too is the Daughter of Jerusalem.

The woman, attuned to the potential hazards that may threaten their blooming love, orchestrates a plan. She turns to the Daughters of Jerusalem who keep watch over the area. "Catch us the foxes," she urges, "the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—for our vineyard is in blossom." She does not only speak for herself or her Beloved; she speaks for the unity they have found, a unity that has now blossomed into something sacred.

Her words serve a dual purpose. As the women set off on their quest to catch the foxes, the disturbance to the vineyard is prevented, maintaining the sanctity of their love. It also offers her and her Beloved a brief interlude alone, enveloped in the now peaceful vineyard.

The woman recognizes that these little foxes are not merely nuisances; they are agents of chaos that could tarnish what is pure. The little foxes are like minor transgressions, almost imperceptible but capable of causing irreparable damage to something beautiful and flourishing. These foxes, these little disruptions, are like those moments of doubt or small betrayals that can creep into the hearts and break them from the inside. She knows that their love, symbolized by the blossoming vineyard, needs to be shielded from such diminutive yet destructive elements.

In ancient times, the ruin of a vineyard could serve as an act of vengeance or retaliation. Just as Samson once unleashed foxes to destroy Philistine vineyards, the loss of her former betrothal could have been a motive for these little foxes—these trifles—to appear and wreak havoc. She knows they must be caught and dealt with before they spoil the sanctity of their love.

While the Daughters of Jerusalem venture out, their absence provides her and her Beloved with a secluded space. Yet, even in their solitude, they are never entirely alone; the vineyard, full of life, reflects their love and the divine harmony that suffuses it. As they stand amidst the vines, her eyes meeting those of her Beloved, they both understand that their love, like a vineyard in full bloom, is both fragile and resilient, vulnerable yet strong, constantly threatened yet eternally hopeful.

Through her actions, she has not only preserved the physical space around them but also safeguarded their emotional and spiritual realms. Both know that their love, encapsulated in the metaphor of a vineyard in blossom, must be cherished, nurtured, and most importantly, protected from the little foxes that seek to destroy it. Like the woman in the Song of Songs, her watchfulness becomes a testament to their enduring love. She is not just a Daughter of Jerusalem; she is the epitome of love's guardian, vigilantly keeping at bay the threats that could unravel the fabric of their sacred unity.

As the Daughters of Jerusalem scatter into the vineyard on their fox-hunting mission, the Daughter of Jerusalem is enveloped by a newfound sense of tranquility. The vineyard, previously a place of potential disruption, has transformed into an open chamber for love, punctuated by the scent of blooming flora. The atmosphere seems to crystallize around them, capturing the essence of their unity.

"My Beloved is mine, and I am his," she thinks, "who browses among the lilies."

In this moment, her connection with her Beloved isn't just affirmed; it deepens. He had been the Shepherd among the lilies, bringing her blossoms that emit a fragrance, leaving an indelible mark on her memory. Just as the Shepherd tends to his flock, providing sustenance and ensuring their well-being, her Beloved tends to her emotional and spiritual nourishment. He is the Shepherd, not of simple sustenance, but of wisdom and understanding.

For the Daughter of Jerusalem, the sequence is crucial. "My Beloved is mine," she first asserts. Her soul had not been ready for this depth of union, this profound revelation. It was her Beloved who first reached out, who initiated the connection. Once her heart opens to receive his love, then, and only then, could she affirm, "And I am his." Her commitment is now as sure as the lilies that bloom around them. It's a love that operates on multiple levels—physical, emotional, and spiritual.

The term "who browses among the lilies" holds a world of symbolism. When her Beloved is described as a Shepherd in this manner, it transcends the literal notion of pastoral care. In periods when the Shepherd nourishes the nations, ensuring their material welfare, he is referred to as the sustainer of bread and water. However, in times when he nourishes souls, illuminating them with prophecy and imbuing them with wisdom, he is a Shepherd among the lilies—those fragrant blossoms that signify a sustenance of a higher order. Lilies, with their intoxicating scent, stand for a spiritual nourishment that feeds the intellect and the soul. It is this form of sustenance, more elusive but far more enduring, that her Beloved provides.

And so, as they stand together in the vineyard, now devoid of the little foxes that once threatened their love, the Daughter of Jerusalem and her Shepherd, her Beloved, bask in the ineffable connection that unites them. Even as their physical forms occupy this temporal space, their souls are nourished in an eternal meadow, bathed in a fragrance that neither time nor circumstance can erase. Their love, resilient yet fragile like a lily in bloom, remains unthreatened, yet ever watchful for the little foxes that lurk on the peripheries of their bliss.

In a fragrant grove, perfumed by a myriad of spices and adorned with the most dazzling of lilies, she finds herself lost in the intoxicating aura of their shared love. "My Beloved is mine, and I am his," she whispers softly to herself, her soul recognizing its profound connection with him, "He who browses among the lilies."

While the daughters of Jerusalem venture into the vineyards to protect them, she knows their efforts are but a fleeting responsibility, bound by the limitations of earthly concerns. They offer her flowers, yes, but it's her Shepherd among the lilies who brings her the kind of sustenance that feeds not just the body but also the soul. In him, she finds the spiritual fragrance that elevates the intellect and stirs the very core of her being.

As she murmurs these affirmations, a subtle shift in the atmosphere alerts her senses. The gentle wind carries a new promise, whispering, "When the day blows gently, and the shadows flee, set out, my Beloved."

She knows then that the earthly commitments, those daughters of the material world who preoccupy themselves with temporal matters, will soon wane in the heat of the day. And when they do, the illusions—the shadows—will flee as well, lifting the veil that separates the corporeal from the spiritual. That's when her Divine Companion would set out, swift as a gazelle or a young stag, and return to her, vanishing and reappearing like a deer that always finds its way back to its familiar abode.

She knows that the hills of spices await them, a realm far removed from the mundane. It will be a return to a heightened state of being, a realm where wisdom flows unimpeded by the distractions of the material world. And so, in the fragrance of the lilies, amidst the spices that imbue the air with their heavenly aroma, they prepare for the next leg of their eternal journey. "For the hills of spices," she echoes the wind, yearning for the moment her Shepherd will return, reinvigorating their spiritual quest, until once again they find themselves enveloped in a love that transcends all understanding.

With her gaze fixed on the hills of spices, the location for their next rendezvous, she feels an overwhelming sense of completeness. It's as if the hills themselves are a sacred sanctuary, inviting them to deepen their eternal love. Just as the spices hold an array of mysteries yet to be revealed, so too does their love promise untold layers of wisdom and spiritual connection. Thus closes the second song in their divine narrative, a fitting finale that sets the stage for more revelations to come.

SONG OF SONGS: CHAPTER TWO (completion of Song One)

A tale that ventures into the untamed love of the soul, where even the whispers of the heart are powerful enough to shape destinies. * Inspired by the rich spiritual symbolism of the commentary of Malbim.

by Rabbi Boruch Merkur

Beneath the expansive branches of cypresses, enveloped in an intangible sanctuary, the two lovers come to a deeper understanding. They realize that their love is both haven and responsibility—a blessing they are given to channel outward. As if a mirror to their souls, the landscape transforms into an extension of their emotional and spiritual states.

Now, she speaks:

"I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys."

In uttering these words, she acknowledges her dual nature. Like a rose of Sharon, she blooms most vividly when basked in the light of the sun, opening her petals to drink in the light. This is when she feels her beauty is most evident, under the radiant gaze of her Beloved, who shines like the sun over Sharon's plains. Yet, she also knows the depth of valleys, those hidden places shrouded in shadows. There, her fragrance—imbued with wisdom, morality, and grace—is felt, seeping into the hearts of those who pass near. It is as though she's saying, "I am both—visible beauty and inner essence, open fields and hidden depths."

She becomes aware that she has an innate need to expand her being in two dimensions. In the light, she opens up like a rose to embrace the fullness of spiritual illumination. In doing so, she becomes a vessel, a conduit of that light, embodying it in her beauty and grace. In the darkness or the 'valleys', she draws inward, taking the spiritual sustenance she has absorbed to then emanate a different kind of light—an aroma, a subtle essence of goodness and wisdom that nurtures the soul.

He listens to her words and finds himself reflecting upon his own dual nature. He too understands that he is part of this vast schema—a part of a two-way flow of divine and earthly love. When in the light, he reflects it; when in the shadow, he seeks to channel it inward to nurture his inner world.

Thus, she illustrates that her love is as multifaceted as she is. In the grand plains and the hidden valleys of their relationship, she can be both a rose and a lily—each requiring different conditions to thrive, yet both contributing to the landscape of their love. Through her words, they both grasp a newfound awareness: that their love, like them, must have its times of glowing visibility and its periods of quiet, unseen growth—each one equally essential in nurturing and sustaining the spiritual architecture of their relationship.

In a lush garden teeming with life, one flower stands out: a single lily, delicate yet resilient, surrounded by thorns. She does not blend in with her spiky neighbors; she stands taller, luminous amidst the green and brown. To look upon her is to be instantly captivated, for in her presence, all else fades to the background. "Like a lily among thorns, so is my darling among the maidens," the Beloved observes.

This observation, however, holds more weight than mere admiration. The Beloved understands the precarious situation of the lily—how it grows on a tree laden with thorns, each one a potential hazard that could pierce and mar its beauty. Yet, the lily rises above them, untangled and untouched.

Similarly, the maiden finds herself among the daughters of Jerusalem—individuals who, despite their own allure, are not her equal in spiritual depth. There is a real danger that she might be swayed or compromised by these surrounding influences. Yet, her inner sanctity elevates her, sets her apart. She knows that to mingle too closely with that which does not share her essence is to risk her own integrity.

Here, we are compelled to think of our own souls, often likened to this exquisite lily. Our environment is fraught with material pursuits and superficial temptations—thorns, in a metaphorical sense. These worldly forces, so contrary to the nature of the soul, threaten to puncture and diminish its intrinsic holiness. It's a delicate balance; one must navigate through life without letting the piercing thorns of materialism compromise the soul's sacred beauty.

In a way, the lily's environment is a mirror to our own existence, where the spiritual and the material cohabit. The challenge, then, is for the soul to rise above, to remain untangled from the complexities that threaten to bring it down. And in doing so, just like the lily, it captures the gaze and the heart of the one who cherishes it above all else.

The maiden finds herself amidst a forest, a forest of towering trees, their branches intertwined in a complex network. Each tree is like a person she has met, some tall and imposing, others short and gnarled. They have their own wisdom, their own shade, and their own fruits. Yet, among them, there is one that catches her eye, one unlike the rest.

"Like an apple tree among trees of the forest, so is my Beloved among the youths," she thinks to herself. Indeed, the apple tree stands distinct. Its height may not rival that of the surrounding oaks and pines, but its presence is unmistakable. Two things make it so: its unique aroma and its succulent fruit.

"I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my mouth," she muses, settling beneath the tree. In her mind, the shade is the wisdom and protection that her Beloved provides. The apple tree’s branches may not be as robust as those of the surrounding trees, yet they offer a comforting shade, a respite from the harsh sunlight, the relentless scrutiny of the world.

And then there's the fruit—apples that bring sweetness to her life. The very apples seem to be a manifestation of love, a love that, though sometimes concealed by the towering entities of the world—the complexities, the traditions, the societal norms—remains as sweet as ever. She tastes one and finds it exactly as she knew it would be: perfect in its sweetness, unique in its flavor, filling her with a sense of wholeness.

The apple tree stands as an allegory for a different kind of governance, a different kind of power in the universe. Around it, nature and its laws, celestial bodies and their grand mechanics, all strive for attention. And yet, in its modesty, the apple tree offers something they cannot: a depth that goes beyond apparent complexities, a simplicity that holds within it the very essence of life. For the maiden, this tree, her Beloved, eclipses all others. His influence may appear subtle, often obscured by the grandeur and laws of nature, yet its essence touches the core of her being.

This realization isn't confined to her alone; it reflects a broader, cosmic interplay. Sometimes the natural world dominates, asserting its force, rendering the divine obscured and hidden. But when souls manage to govern their smaller worlds—their own lives—with wisdom and free choice, the grandeur of the natural world yields to a higher intellect, revealing the hidden governance of the divine.

In this delicate balance, she finds herself enamored with the subtlety and the assurance that her Beloved offers. Whether cloaked in the overshadowing influences of the world around her or basking in the palpable intimacy of his guidance, his "fruit" remains—sweet to her taste, fulfilling in its love, a constant in a world of variables.

So she sits, under the shade of her Beloved, tasting the sweetness of his love, acknowledging the profound yet simple wisdom that surrounds her. In this singular moment, with the taste of the apple still lingering on her lips, she understands that the profound love and intricate governance of her Beloved are not opposing forces, but rather complementary facets of a singular divine affection.

"He brought me to the banquet room," the woman whispers to herself, still feeling the echo of his touch. It was a secluded spot where the wine was not just wine, but symbolic of an intoxicating, divine joy. The room was a sanctuary, an enclave that seemed removed from the world, yet deeply embedded within it. Her Beloved led her there, his eyes never leaving hers, drawing her inward. The banquet room was not just a place of food and drink, but a space that signaled a higher, divine sustenance.

The ambiance was the din of prophecy, eachoing even in the sweetness of the grapes and the ripeness of the moment. It offered her the ethereal feeling of being alive in the company of the Divine, manifest through Beloved's presence.

"And his banner of love was over me," she continues, almost in awe. This banner was not a piece of cloth hoisted on a pole but an invisible emblem radiating from Beloved. It was love, pure and transcendent, that soared over her, enfolding her in a protective, liberating embrace. The experience of such love was an initiation, a prelude to something even more profound.

In this House of Wine, the very atmosphere bears witness to their union, and like a flag unfurled, the banner of love is raised over them. The Shepherd has placed this emblem above her not merely as a claim but as a signal, a proclamation to all the realms that she is the object of an extraordinary affection. The banner serves as an overarching protection and an internal compass, anchoring her in her newfound spiritual alignment.

Love, she realizes, is the Shepherd's flag. And in this realization, she comprehends the unfolding sequence of intimacy. It is love that has drawn her into this divine assembly. Love precedes even the kiss, the most intimate of connections, and it is also the precursor to partaking of the extraordinary wisdom represented by the wine in this sanctuary. This love secures her, binds her soul to his, making her receptive to the cosmic truths she is about to imbibe.

As she stands there, under the banner of love, in the heart of the House of Wine, she senses that there are two kinds of wine. One is earthly, catering to mundane joys, while the other is heavenly, the elixir of divine wisdom. The latter is what fills the cups in this banquet room. This wisdom-infused love elevates her, readying her soul for deeper union and revelation. It was love that led her here, and it is love that will sustain her as she embarks on this sacred journey toward ever-deepening spiritual communion.

In the wake of her journey through the sanctuary of love and divine sustenance, she finds herself on the cusp of exhaustion. This depletion is unlike any she has known; it is a languishing born from the intensity of love. Her very soul yearns for sustenance, a longing deeper than the marrow of her bones.

"Sustain me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love," she murmurs, a plea reverberating not only in the banquet room but throughout her entire being.

The nourishment the cakes provide allow the maiden to hold on to the ecstatic visions and spiritual highs that have so profoundly moved her. Likewise, the fragrance of the apples holds the promise of wisdom gained through inquiry and contemplation.

As she utters her plea, she realizes that this wisdom, manifested through understanding and investigation, forms a secondary but crucial support system. Initially, the prophetic experience is her primary sustenance; afterward, the insights from pondering the divine deepen her connection and give her stability.

Her entire being—body, soul, and spirit—is overwhelmed with a love so intense, it leaves her faint. This is a love not of whimsy but of profound attachment. Her soul cleaves to her Beloved with an ardor that can be likened only to the most intense forms of human affection. Yet this is not mere human love; it is an adoration that seeks to unify the mortal and the divine. It's as if her spirit is tethered to a form of love so monumental that it leaves her drained, in need of divine sustenance to carry on.

In this moment, she understands that the path she's embarked upon demands not only emotional and spiritual fuel but also intellectual sustenance. Through the divine wisdom granted to wise men of old, she grasps that her love for the Shepherd and her desire to fathom the depths of the Divine can coexist.

As she utters her plea, the atmosphere shifts subtly. It seems as though the banquet room itself, this House of Wine, is responsive to her needs. She senses a surge of nourishment, as if the walls were providing nourishment and the air were imbued with the fragrance of apples. Each element offers her a layer of sustenance, one for her spirit's yearning for prophecy, and another for her mind's thirst for wisdom.

There, under the banner of love, in the heart of this House of Wine, she knows that she will find the sustenance her soul craves, in forms both direct and nuanced. It’s not just a need but an unfolding sequence, a layered nourishment that recognizes the complexity of her love and the multidimensional nature of her spiritual journey. This realization doesn't alleviate her exhaustion entirely, but it enriches her understanding, making her willing, even eager, to continue her journey toward deeper spiritual communion.

It's as if her soul has detached itself from worldly entanglements, gripped by love and yearning for her Beloved. In this state, she can only rely on the distilled wisdom and the spiritual pursuits that give her a semblance of stability. Her essence clings to these forms of support like a patient clinging to life, absorbing Divine mysteries and tracing the outlines of heavenly wisdom through the pathways of human understanding.

As her thoughts unfurl like the petals of the flowers surrounding her, she becomes aware of a comforting presence. It's as if an ethereal embrace envelops her from behind: "His left hand was under my head; His right arm embraced me."

In this tender moment, the left hand beneath her head signifies what she gains through her own mental faculties and understanding. It provides the groundwork, a bed upon which her head—her intellect—may rest. Yet, it's the right arm, the embrace, that symbolizes the sublime, the miraculous—those Divine truths apprehended not by human effort but by grace, by a love so profound it defies explanation.

In the grand scheme, the right arm of miraculous understanding will be her mainstay, embracing her with an irrevocable love. Meanwhile, the left hand of intellectual achievement serves as a sort of foundation, yet one that is placed "under the head," subtly secondary to the overwhelming grace and love that surround her.

In this mysterious union, the Spirit finds equilibrium between what can be understood and what can only be experienced. The invisible currents of the meadow seem to hum in harmony with her newfound state: a balance of human understanding and Divine revelation, both embracing her in a love so fervent that it burns away all else.

In a moment of stillness, the maiden stands surrounded by the gazelles and hinds of the open field. Her heart beats in sync with the pulse of the earth beneath her feet, and she senses the natural forces that animate her world. The Maidens of Jerusalem, embodiments of her earthly desires and concerns, watch her from a distance.

"I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem," she calls out to them, her voice carried by the wind, "by gazelles or by hinds of the field, do not wake or rouse love until it pleases."

As her words resonate in the air, she is cautioning these physical elements within herself and the world around her. This love, an all-encompassing union with her Beloved, isn't to be trivialized or forced. It should neither be distanced nor drawn close by the whims of external circumstances, but only come into full bloom when it naturally desires to. She pledges her promise to the hinds and gazelles that roam freely in the fields, as if they are the witnesses to this sacred commitment; they are the manifestations of natural vitality that should neither hasten nor hinder the course of true love.

At a deeper, spiritual level, the woman is addressing not just physical yearnings but also the more complex facets of her soul. She warns her corporeal inclinations not to awaken a love that isn't pure, one that's driven by material desires or superficial lust. Only a love that emanates from a soul seeking union with Divine spirit is worthy of arousal. Here, she is momentarily outside the city, in a metaphorical wilderness, where her soul has expanded beyond bodily needs and limitations. She's connected to a higher intellect, isolated from these earthly forces.

The natural elements, exemplified by the gazelles and hinds, run through the channels of her being—much like the blood coursing through her veins—keeping her physically alive but not to disrupt the sanctity of a spiritual love. In this isolation, she is adjuring them to respect the sanctity and timing of this love, for it is not just a commitment between two entities, but rather between her soul and the eternal spirit it seeks.

As she stands there, the first song of her soul seems to reach a harmonious conclusion. This marks a significant chapter in her lifelong search for Divine union, a journey that is to be neither rushed nor delayed but should proceed at the pace set by the heart and soul in their quest for the ultimate Beloved.

SONG OF SONGS: CHAPTER ONE (Song One)

A quest for love that can be felt both in the silent individual moments and in the bustling crowds, both in the hidden niches of the vineyard and in the overwhelming brightness of the noonday sun. * Inspired by the rich spiritual symbolism of the commentary of Malbim.

by Rabbi Boruch Merkur

Inside a lavish palace, where the scent of exotic spices mingles with melodious harp strings, King Solomon is entranced by a woman of exceptional beauty. Mysterious and compelling, she appears to be both of this world and beyond it.

Beyond the palace walls, a shepherd roams through desert expanses and flowering fields. Simple in appearance but exuding a charisma that can't be ignored, he seems to be in tune with something much larger than himself. On certain quiet nights, when the world holds its breath, the connection between the shepherd and the palace-dwelling woman seems almost palpable, as if a secret language bridges the distance between them.

Around them, the people of Jerusalem go about their lives—engaging in trade, tending to governance, absorbed in earthly concerns. They may not realize it, but they're also participants in a deeper drama, grappling with the balance between the material world and something far more elusive.

As the Song of Songs echoes through Jerusalem, we realize King Solomon has composed not just one, but five individual songs. Each piece tells its own chapter in a love story that defies easy explanation. The king is smitten by an extraordinary woman he has chosen to isolate within his palace, guarded by trusted female attendants.

Yet the woman is conflicted. Although she finds herself physically contained within the splendor of Solomon's palace, her soul often ventures out into the wilderness. There, a simple shepherd, enigmatic yet genuine, calls to her from across the miles. Despite the walls around her, the emotional and spiritual pull she feels toward this shepherd sets the stage for choices that will ripple through both their lives.

With these tensions at play, the first of Solomon's five songs starts to unfold.

King Solomon, seated on his opulent throne, ponderously strums his lyre. The chambers of his palace vibrate with the melody, a musical expression of the existential crisis grappling his soul. In his eyes, the palace feels at once like a haven and a gilded cage. The woman who has captivated his heart adds layers of complexity to this emotional landscape. Is he the king of her heart, or is he merely a bystander in her emotional odyssey?

While the king ruminates, the woman gazes out from her lavishly adorned chamber. Even as the scent of exotic incense fills the air and the finest linens caress her skin, her thoughts wander to the shepherd's humble abode. It's a world devoid of grandeur, yet brimming with an authentic essence that the palace lacks. Could it be that her soul craves simplicity over opulence, earnestness over ostentation?

The scene is thus set for a stirring tribute to love's mysterious power. It seeks to explore how love can thrive in complexity and paradox, in a space where spiritual and material worlds intersect. The palace and the pasture are no longer mere locations, but metaphors for the vast emotional terrains that love can traverse, and the choices one must make when tugged between the two.

As the notes drift into the Jerusalem air, a question lingers: Can love find its truest form when entangled in dichotomies, or does it demand a clarity as pure as the shepherd's call?

Amidst the splendor of Solomon's palace, the woman finds a moment of solitude. Though surrounded by luxury, she feels a spiritual emptiness that no material wealth can fill. In a quiet chamber, the haunting words of the shepherd fill her mind: "Oh, give me of the kisses of your mouth, for your love is more delightful than wine."

These words resonate deeply within her. Despite the sumptuous feasts and the heady perfumes, despite the intoxicating melodies that fill the palace air, her soul is stirred by a different kind of intoxication—an intoxication not of wine, but of love that promises a connection far deeper.

Her heart pounds as she realizes the shepherd's love transcends any earthly delight she has known, even within the king's palace. She is intoxicated, not by the wine flowing freely in Solomon's halls, but by a yearning for a love that her soul recognizes as genuine and true.

In that moment, she knows that she must make a choice, one that will reverberate through her life and the shepherd's. As the tension builds, she prepares herself to navigate the labyrinth of her own desires and commitments.

The woman's reflection on the alluring aroma of fragrant oils isn't just a fleeting thought. As she considers the words "Your ointments yield a sweet fragrance, Your name is like finest oil—Therefore do maidens love you," she finds herself contemplating a love that transcends the physical world.

In this rarefied air, the maidens—representing the faculties of wisdom, understanding, and knowledge—are themselves enamored. They are drawn to something beyond mere physicality; they are enticed by an aroma far more compelling, something that pertains to divine wisdom. These faculties are not just serving the soul; they are explorers in a journey toward higher enlightenment.

For her, the king's name carries weight beyond worldly titles or honors. It serves as a metaphor for his pervasive, enlightening influence that graces everything it touches, much like the finest, most fragrant oil. But she finds herself questioning the nature of this attraction. Is it his worldly power, his material gifts, or does his appeal lie in his capacity to awaken deeper spiritual insights?

Though surrounded by the opulence of Solomon’s court, a different love—the shepherd's simple, unadorned love—continues to pull at her. She understands that her decision will resonate beyond her own life, influencing also the shepherd's existence. This realization transforms the palace from a mere physical space into a complex emotional landscape, a testing ground for her deepest desires and most perplexing dilemmas.

With these reflections, she prepares for the unfolding love story that lies ahead, a narrative that promises to be as complex as it is simple, as lavish as it is restrained.

The woman, enveloped in her contemplation, finally gives voice to her yearning. "Draw me after you, let us run!" she exclaims, feeling as though her words are a mixture of plea and command. It is a cry not just for herself, but also for those who hear the shepherd's call, an invitation to pursue a love that promises to satisfy the deepest cravings of the soul.

As she utters these words, they reverberate through the intricately carved walls of the palace, as though seeking an echo. They are not merely an expression of her own longing but pose a challenge to all within earshot. She understands that love is not a static experience confined to palatial walls or pastoral fields. It is dynamic, a continual seeking and a mutual drawing closer.

In this moment, her soul feels lighter, as if unburdened by the weight of gold and jewels that surround her. Her spirit resonates with a newfound clarity, not a mere escape but a pursuit of something higher, more meaningful. Though still physically in the palace, her soul soars beyond its confines, embracing the shepherd’s call that promises a love rooted not in splendor, but in truth.

Here, as she prepares to move forward, the woman understands that the essence of love is neither in the chase nor in the capture, but in the unending journey that draws two souls ever closer. And so, she sets her path with a heart filled with both trepidation and excitement, uncertain of where the journey will lead, but sure of the love that calls her on.

The woman turns to the daughters of Jerusalem and says, "I may appear dark now, but don't be deceived. This darkness isn't my essence; it's the result of my long journey under the sun." The words "like the tents of Kedar" escape her lips, evoking the nomadic tribes whose tents are sun-darkened but are nonetheless their cherished homes. "But remember, I am also like the pavilions of Solomon," she continues, her eyes sparkling, "elegant and filled with an inner grandeur that you can't see at the first glance."

She speaks with a self-assured poise, her voice imbued with the conviction of someone who has reconciled the complexities within herself. In her, the daughters of Jerusalem witness a woman who is unashamed of her present state, yet confident in her own inherent beauty and the grandeur that awaits her.

In a vineyard under the sweltering sun, the woman labors, her skin growing ever darker under the heat of the day. As she works, her thoughts drift to the scrutiny she feels from society, the whispered judgments that echo through her mind.

"Do not stare at me because I am dark, because the sun has looked upon me," she says to herself. Her voice carries a note of defiance; the world's gaze, so concerned with external matters, has become an uninvited guest in her life.

"My mother's sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept," she reflects, a poignant sadness settling on her features. Her brothers, preoccupied with their own worldly ambitions, have enlisted her in their projects and concerns. In doing so, they've diverted her attention away from her own vineyard—her spiritual and personal growth.

Though she toils in a physical vineyard, the vineyard she's left unattended is metaphorical, a space for wisdom, self-awareness, and deep-rooted spirituality. She has been made keeper of other people's concerns, yet her own vineyard lies neglected.

A realization forms in her mind. Her state, however undesirable, can be reversed. She can reclaim her metaphorical vineyard, tending to it with the same care she's been giving others'. Her spirit begins to buoy; she feels a renewed sense of purpose.

The lady knows that the path ahead is not without its challenges, but the first step—recognizing the problem—has been taken. And for now, that is enough.

As the woman labors in the vineyard, her thoughts are consumed by her beloved, who seems so distant despite being so deeply imprinted on her heart. The scrutiny and judgments from those around her have erected barriers, like walls that separate her from her true love.

"Tell me, you whom I love so well; where do you pasture your sheep? Where do you rest them at noon?" she whispers, as if her voice could carry over the invisible walls between them. She yearns for guidance, a sign to show her where she might find him, especially when the world feels brightest and yet so blindingly harsh. "Let me not be as one who strays beside the flocks of your fellows."

Her words are a plea for a more intimate understanding. She understands that the Divine presence can sometimes be felt directly, like a shepherd personally tending to each sheep, gifting each one according to its needs. At other times, the Divine presence might only be inferred through the order and patterns of the world—a resting, rather than a tending, where sustenance is derived from existing reserves.

She seeks to know how to recognize her beloved's guiding hand in both kinds of moments: when she feels directly cared for, and when she feels like just another in a large flock under the hot sun. It's the difference between a shepherd who tends to his sheep and a shepherd who lets them rest: one is direct guidance, and the other is through the laws of nature and life itself.

Her question also hints at a greater philosophical quest. She's asking not just for her beloved's location but also for a method of inquiry, a way to find him even when he seems concealed by worldly concerns or higher cosmic forces. The maiden's inquiry goes beyond the immediate and physical; it's a search for a sustained connection that can survive even the blinding brightness of 'noon'—times when earthly matters make it hard to perceive divine guidance.

She is acutely aware that she's like a wanderer amidst the flocks of her fellows, governed by the same celestial bodies and bound by the same earthly concerns. Yet, she doesn't want to be like one who strays, lost in a crowd, distanced from her divine beloved. Her plea is to be directed, to be known, and not to be lost in the sea of faces, even if those faces are lit by the same sun and looking towards the same horizon.

The maidens's yearning thus becomes a quest not just for reunion but for understanding, for a relationship that transcends the physical and navigates the intricacies of divine and earthly love. It's a quest for a love that can be felt both in the silent individual moments and in the bustling crowds, both in the hidden niches of the vineyard and in the overwhelming brightness of the noonday sun.

Emboldened by the spark of a newfound yearning for the Shepherd, the young maiden's mind becomes a storm of emotions and concerns. Two questions surface with pressing urgency. How can she find the elusive Shepherd? And how can she make her journey without drawing the suspicion of the King's guards and loyal troops?

As if whispered by the wind, a piece of wisdom takes form in her thoughts, answering her first concern. "If you don't know where to find me, O fairest among women," the ethereal voice seems to say, "follow the tracks of the sheep. They will lead you to me." The advice is deceptively simple but enlightening, providing a tangible clue in her quest. To find the Shepherd, she need only follow the signs left by his flock—the tracks that paint a path in the grassy fields, guiding her towards the place where he would be.

Her second concern is addressed almost as swiftly. "Graze your kids by the tents of the shepherds," the wisdom advises. By taking this approach, she could blend effortlessly into the pastoral backdrop, appearing as merely another shepherdess tending to her livestock. This would render her invisible to the eyes of the King's men who might pass by, their gazes sliding off her unremarkable presence, unattuned to her true mission.

So, with this newfound clarity, her next steps crystallize. She will follow the trails left by the sheep, using the subtle hints etched into the earth as her roadmap. She also understands the wisdom of keeping her young goats close, grazing them near the tents of those who share the Shepherd's vocation but lack his extraordinary vision. This would not only serve as a disguise but also afford her a level of safety, rendering her a mere thread in the intricate tapestry of the pastoral landscape.

Her heart swelling with a blend of anticipation and resolve, she prepares for the journey that lies ahead. Now, she has not just a yearning, but a plan—a way to channel her passion into action, guided by insights that seem almost divinely inspired. And so, she steps forward, her eyes following the sheep's tracks on the ground, her young goats gamboling around her, close to the tents of the other shepherds, as she becomes a purposeful part of the scenery, yet set apart by a mission that thrills her very soul.

The maiden, still lost in the ecstasy of her newfound understanding and resolve, finds herself caught in a gaze with the Shepherd. In this moment, their souls communicate in a language beyond words, and he likens her to a mare in Pharaoh's chariots. This comparison is far from trivial, for Pharaoh's chariots are the epitome of worldly grandeur, crafted to command attention and symbolize power.

To the Shepherd, the comparison reveals the paradox of her situation. Like a unique and priceless mare, yoked to the chariots of a grandiose power, she is caught between two worlds. She has been adorned with the jewels of worldly beauty, making her a part of the King's opulent tapestry. Yet, she also possesses an unparalleled purity of spirit that sets her apart, making her unique in the Shepherd's eyes. She is like that solitary mare—exceptional and irreplaceable—yoked to the chariots of a kingdom she does not truly belong to.

In the Shepherd's allegory, the chariots of Pharaoh symbolize the powerful worldly forces that seek to guide her journey. These are the lures of material wealth, social status, and the grandeur of the King's palace—all alluring, yet ultimately shallow. They have attempted to yoke her, to direct her path towards worldly pursuits and away from her soul’s true calling.

As for the Shepherd, he sees himself as the one who would lead her not toward worldly grandeur but towards true fulfillment. His analogy reveals his wish for her to be unhitched from the empty allure of worldly chariots, to be guided instead by her own unique essence, a quality that is akin to a solitary mare—powerful, untamed, and full of potential.

Understanding the depth of the Shepherd's words, she finds her resolve strengthened. She now sees that her journey is not just one of distance but also of transformation. It is not merely about fleeing from one place to another; it’s about breaking free from the gilded chains that seek to bind her spirit, from the chariots of grandiosity to the fields of authenticity.

With a gentle nod to the Shepherd, she accepts his profound wisdom, silently affirming her intention to seek a path not dictated by the superficial glamour that surrounds her, but guided by the calling of her own soul. In doing so, she becomes more than just a part of the King's grand tapestry. She becomes a unique thread in a divine design, woven not of silk and gold, but of courage, love, and wisdom.

As she walks away from the Shepherd, her thoughts shift to her transformation, both seen and unseen. In her journey so far, she has donned new ornaments; plaited wreaths grace her cheeks, and strings of pearls adorn her neck. She reflects on how these embellishments aren't just superficial decorations but tokens of her evolving understanding of the world around her.

In the realm of pure thought, where her soul once dwelled, there were no material markers. She was devoid of language, concepts, and corporeal experiences. Her understanding was immediate and unfiltered, free from the limitations of time, space, and matter. But upon descending into the world of material existence, her perceptions underwent a drastic shift. Now bound by the constraints of physicality, her insights have to pass through the veil of senses. Slowly, she has acquired the ability to name things, to formulate sentences, and to establish connections between abstract and concrete. Her cheeks, those speakers of words, now wear plaited wreaths, signifying the language she has come to use as a vehicle for her thoughts.

Her neck, too, signifies a deeper change. If her cheeks are the speakers of words, her neck is the fountain of her inner voice, the realm of calculated reasoning and deep contemplation. Adorned now with strings of pearls, it symbolizes the structured way she has come to think. Each pearl, connected by an invisible thread, represents a unit of thought, a step in a logical progression. She understands that this is how she must now gain insights—gradually, stringing thoughts together, building upon the last, from sentence to argument, from argument to understanding.

Her ornaments, then, are not mere externalities. They are the manifestation of her newly acquired ways of perception and thought, the frameworks through which she now navigates her journey. These embellishments are her earned wisdom, a testament to her growth and the complex path she now walks, bound yet freeing, limited yet profound.

And so, as she moves forward, each step is not just a step in space but a leap in understanding. She embraces the limitations and the gifts of her new existence, realizing that they are two sides of the same coin, each necessary for her ultimate transformation. She is adorned but not defined by her new trappings, guided still by the undying essence of her soul.

In Solomon's sanctuary, a whisper of alchemy stirs the air. "We will add wreaths of gold to your spangles of silver," he says, words that shimmer like the metallic wreaths themselves, spun from heavenly looms.

Here, the Divine Presence, once adorned only in silver spangles—pure but simple—feels an ethereal transformation. The silver, once pale as moonlight on still water, begins to dance with the golden promise, as if alight with dawn's first rays.

The gold doesn't just add to the silver; it transforms it, creating an interplay of light and substance, depth and nuance. If silver were a solitary note, pure but monotonous, gold writes the symphony. Mysteriously, the silver spangles seem to expand, as though making room within their essence for the golden wreaths yet to come.

Imagine a celestial garden in bloom; once limited to buds of silver, now petals of gold unfurl, revealing hidden facets of beauty and wisdom. A kind of divine eloquence takes form, not said but felt, enriching the Presence's understanding without a single spoken word.

In this sanctuary, Solomon’s words act like an ancient spell, converting simplicity into complexity, a single hue into a spectrum, all without altering the core essence of the Divine Presence. This silent chamber becomes a mystical loom, weaving threads of gold into the very fabric of the Divine.

In a grand chamber, the King lounges amidst a feast, captivated by the sensory delights surrounding him. His focus is entirely on the palpable, the immediate. His company, however, feels a different kind of pull.

"While the King is at his table, my honeysuckle gives forth its fragrance."

She senses something beyond the corporeal delights that occupy the King. A fragrance emanates, not from the sumptuous dishes or the aromatic oils scattered about the room, but from an entirely different source. This scent is her nard, an essence that belongs uniquely to her Beloved, and it fills the space with a different kind of allure.

She turns inward, contemplating the fragrance. To her, it speaks of a love unconfined by physical space or pleasure, a scent that seems to emanate from a spiritual domain where her Beloved dwells. The fragrance is an invisible thread, pulling her away from the table of the King, urging her to elevate her thoughts and affections.

In this moment, the scent of her nard becomes a revelation, a reminder that there exists a higher joy and a greater love than what the corporeal world offers. It is as if an answer is crystallized in the air around her: the realm of the spiritual, where her true Beloved resides, is always within reach, ever beckoning her to ascend and partake in a more celestial banquet.

And so, while the King remains engrossed in his earthly delights, she begins to drift away, guided by this transcendent aroma, aware that her true affinity lies not with the opulence surrounding her but with the invisible, inexpressible love that her honeysuckle's fragrance reveals.

In a lingering moment of introspection, her senses newly awakened by the scent of nard, she feels another, deeper resonance.

"My beloved to me is a amulet of myrrh lodged between my breasts."

The myrrh, unlike the fleeting fragrance of nard, is like a permanent inscription on her heart, a constant reminder. It rests securely, planted inside her, creating an unceasing remembrance. Every breath carries the scent, subtly but undeniably, inward and outward, a scent that envelops not just her, but the space around her.

The myrrh is not just a scent; it’s an anchor, a connection to her Beloved. It’s like the divine codes imprinted onto the tablets of her soul. When she closes her eyes, when she looks inward to the core of her being, she senses a sanctuary of celestial wonders, a script of profound truths inscribed there by her Beloved. It is as though her innermost being carries the most precious of scents, captured and treasured in the essence of her soul.

And so, she understands that her Beloved is both distant and near, as intangible as fragrance yet as intimate as a heartbeat. He is the echo of divine love in her mortal existence, the spiritual scent woven into her very flesh and spirit, a constant presence in the sanctuary of her innermost self.

From her previous reflections on the myrrh's lasting essence, she now shifts her attention to something different, something more distant yet equally potent.

"My beloved to me is a spray of henna blooms from the vineyards of En-gedi."

The scent of henna blooms fills the air, whispering across space from the vineyards of En-gedi, where her Beloved resides. Unlike the myrrh that clings closely, the aroma of these blooms travels great distances, reaching her from afar. It's as if the henna clusters in those distant vineyards have an ineffable quality, a unique spiritual signature that sets them apart amid myriad other scents and forms. This individual spray of henna is recognized among countless others in the vineyard, its fragrance distinguishable from a multitude, its essence captured in a single breeze.

And it is here that she senses the dual nature of her connection to her Beloved. On one hand, there's an inner realm, the myrrh, an inscription upon the heart, felt within the closeness of her being. On the other hand, there's the henna blooms, emanating from En-gedi—a remote and untamed place. This duality mirrors her understanding of her Beloved, who, like the henna's fragrance, can be sensed from a great distance, calling from beyond the immediate world, from a space untamed and expansive.

While the myrrh is an internal inscription, the henna blooms represent her awareness of a divine presence that extends throughout all existence. It is as if she understands that her Beloved is both a singular cluster of henna in a vast vineyard and the entire vineyard itself. The specific scent that reaches her carries the all-encompassing nature of her Beloved—the One who sustains all things yet remains distinctly discernible among them.

She realizes she senses the divine not only within her inner sanctuary but also as it manifests in the outer expanse, a fragrance that comes to her from a realm beyond her immediate surroundings. And so, each breath she takes is a constant interplay between nearness and distance, between the myrrh lodged close to her heart and the henna blooms whispering to her from faraway vineyards.

In the sanctuary of their unspoken love, she becomes acutely aware of a distant but powerful fragrance that emanates from him, as if arising from the vineyards of En-gedi—a lonely oasis in the wilderness. Though the vast expanses between them are filled with many other fragrances, it is his that captures her senses. It's as if amidst the cacophony of life's complexities, his unique essence stands out, discernible to her intuitive grasp. Though he dwells in expanses far removed from the populated world, she senses the singularity of his presence. In the same way that one henna bloom can fill an entire room with its scent, his influence pervades every aspect of existence, known and acknowledged among all that exists. She feels she's come to understand the profundity of his spiritual essence, which touches both the innermost part of her soul and the outer world.

Then, he speaks.

"Ah, you are fair, my darling. Ah, you are fair," he says, his voice a blend of awe and affirmation. "Your eyes are like doves."

His words illuminate their sacred connection. He sees her beauty in two distinct lights. First, he acknowledges her loyalty, her unwavering focus on him alone despite all other distractions, much like how a dove gazes solely at its mate. Second, he perceives an intrinsic beauty in her, recognizing her unique spiritual qualities.

Indeed, she carries two kinds of vision within her. One is an inner eye that contemplates the forces of the soul, perceiving the divine imprints etched on the essence of her being. The other is an outer eye that surveys the totality of existence, recognizing his guidance, his wisdom, and his omnipotence in every facet of life. Both sets of eyes are akin to those of a dove, concentrated wholly on their counterpart.

Just as the dove's gaze is steadfast, bound to its mate, so does she fixate on the One, the singular source of all things, in a continual search for love and wisdom. For in a world of manifold distractions and myriad paths, it is this singular focus, this unity of vision, that marks the sublime beauty of their bond.

She replays the moment in her mind. The moment is tender and deeply intimate. "Ah, you are fair, my darling, ah, you are fair," he breathes, looking into her eyes, which carry the softness and loyalty of doves. "Your eyes look only to me, not swayed by any grandeur or opulence, seeing only the essence of the partnership we share."

She feels the words in the deepest corners of her being and replies, "And you, my beloved, are handsome. Beautiful indeed! You are beautiful not only in your form but also in your essence. The completeness that you bring to my existence makes you doubly delightful."

He understands the depth of her response. "Yes," he thinks, "we are a mirror reflecting the beauty intrinsic in the universe. A mirror reflecting the beauty of God's image imprinted within our souls."

"Our couch is in a bower, our alcove," she continues. Her voice quivers with emotion, describing a new reality they are about to enter. It's not a golden throne or a silver bed they share but a simple, unadorned nook made of living branches. The setting lacks material riches but is imbued with an undeniable spiritual vibrancy. "Our resting place is invigorated by fresh, living branches. The time for our intimate union has arrived."

Both feel the potency of her words. Their union will not be a superficial coupling but a deep merging of souls, of spiritual inclinations both human and divine. In their bower, they experience a harmony, a resonance that is at once refreshing and nourishing. "This is the place," she knows, "where all that is fragmented becomes whole, where individual pursuits are understood in the scope of a greater, more holistic love."

He agrees, sensing that the time has come for them to unify all the scattered dimensions of their beings into a single, vibrant whole. The divine in her will meld with the divine in him. "This is our sacred meeting place," he thinks, "where we are prepared for a unity that transcends all we've known."

In this place, in this moment, they find themselves simultaneously lost and found—lost in a love that dissolves all barriers, and found in a sacred unity that promises to elevate their souls in an embrace of everlasting significance.

In the embrace of the wilderness, where they had found both refuge and intimacy, the two lovers pause. The towering cedars stand sentinel around them, their heights lost in the misty sky. "Cedars are the beams of our house," he murmurs, looking up at the grand trees, "Cypresses the rafters."

To her, this isn't just poetic imagery; it's the architecture of unity. Just as the cedars reach toward the heavens, their love, too, stretches upward, striving for something infinitely greater. Cedars are strong yet flexible, enduring yet ever-growing; they symbolize the profound connection that elevates them both beyond their individual limitations. Beneath these cedars, the eternal and the finite meet.

The cypresses, with their expansive branches, serve as their shelter, channeling the rainwater away from them, allowing it to nourish the ground around. The branches of the cypresses function as conduits, directing the flow of grace and blessings, just as their love serves as a conduit for something higher—channeling divine abundance to the earth, to the parched hearts longing for sustenance. She understands that their love is a haven, but also a responsibility—a structure that protects, but also extends its blessings outward.

The wilderness transforms before their eyes into a sanctuary. Their love is no longer confined to the limited dimensions of their physical existence; it is as expansive as the cedars and as nurturing as the cypresses. Beneath these natural rafters, they realize that the house they are building is not made of wood or stone, but of spiritual elements—of kindness, of holiness, of an endless giving and receiving.

He takes her hand, sensing the same profound truth she does—that their love is an expression of the Divine, a meeting point of two souls, but also an interface between heaven and earth. Like the cedars and the cypresses that form the structure of their metaphorical home, they too are elements in a greater scheme—both shelter and gateway, both end and means.

And so, enveloped by the cedars and cypresses, their souls dance to an ancient rhythm. It is the hymn of love, resounding through the trees, carried by the winds, whispered by the leaves, and in that moment, they know they are both home and journey, both sanctuary and voyage, bound by the laws of nature yet transcending them, each serving as both beam and rafter in the sacred architecture of their love.