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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.

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