I’m looking for my lover
We dined together and he fed me
He told me he loved me and i shrugged it off
His love, unfamiliar
You see his love is overwhelming, new to me
My lover would serenade me, with reaffirmations of his love
Yet i yearned to exploit the routine of the familiar love,
The clockwork type, earned – not freely given
Turning down his affection,
He said to me, time is running out, but i knew his devotion was true
Patiently awaiting my reciprocation,
Again he said, a time is coming where you will be unable to confess your love
I have loved, comforted and fed you,
I’ve washed your feet
What more can i do to affirm my love
When would you love me back?
Will you reckon this love at my departure or open your arms to me now, that I may
present you to my father?
I scoffed at his expression
Where could my admirer possibly go, he has eyes for me alone
When i am ready i will settle for his love
Suddenly i slept and awoke
My lover was nowhere to be found
Like the woman in SOS3 (Songs of Solomon Ch3)
I took to the streets, and sought out my first love
He had been led in an accusatory procession
Sunk in confusion,
I pursued the procession
Whip after whip, i was deafened by his suffering
I cried out aloud, where is he who proclaimed his affection for me endlessly?
Desperate to catch a glimpse of him
I pushed my way through the crowd,
Falling to my knees – i found my lover in a blood bath
Nailed hands and feet – condemned to a cross
Tears blurred my vision
As I finally confessed, “I love you,” my voice trembling,
My lover, erected as an antique placard for public display
His only crime – loving me
Golgotha heard my confession first
And he took his last breath,
In death, i found eternal union
Married at the foot of the cross
In regret, I took to the city gates, beating my breast
Calling out to my generation!
Learn my ordeal as a warning!
Turn to your first love, while time can be tamed
Give your hearts, believe in him, that you may be presented to his father – The Vinedresser.
Love him and mean it – consecrate yourself unto his love
Let it be that Hades hears not your confession first.
For the bridegroom cannot be sought in its depth,
It is the land of no redemption.
Till we meet to part no more lover of my soul.