These and Those

Musings from Students of the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem

“True Love – or – Shir HaShirim, pt. II”

Posted on February 14, 2013 by Abayiss

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

When I think of my life, look back and reflect, I know she’s always been there. It was ALWAYS her, no matter what, through all the trials and despite our occasional differences, she will always be by my side, and I love her for it.

She will never diminish, she is as much a part of me as I am of her. She is magnificent and eternal, and I am truly blessed and grateful. I am hers, in body and soul. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. And all I ask in return is that she never change, that she remain majestic, amazing, beautiful.

She truly is flawless. Her every curve a work of art, the very image of perfection as I imagine it. She stands, proud and tall, and I am struck with amazement. Everything about her takes my breath away.

I observe and take in every detail, and the memories and associations flood me:

Her hair, full and luscious, ever alluring, captivating, mysterious like a forest. I could run my hand through it, stroke it, tangle in it for days.

Her eyes, deep as the sea, so full of meaning, of promise, of love. Every time I look in them, I’m lost, pulled in by the waves, almost drowning, and I never want to make it to shore.

Her lips, full, juicy, tempting, forbidden fruit. They feel amazing, like silk on my skin, making the pain go away, and I find myself wishing it never had to end.

Her neck and shoulders, deceptively feminine, yet so strong and powerful, capable of carrying such burdens. Having my arm around them makes me feel like I can protect her from anything.

Her breasts stand proud and firm, like mountains against the horizon. Feeling them against me, resting my head on them, fills me with a sense of calm and serenity.

Her hips, those perfect female curves, swaying with her every move. I feel them pressing towards me, yearning, and my willpower dissolves into thin air.

Her legs, those long, endless stems of elegance. As she wraps them around me, pulling me closer, I know that I am exactly where I belong.

Yet for all her external, physical beauty, it is what she possesses internally that truly draws me to her:

Her mind, sharp, calculating, logical, cold. Like the snow-covered mountaintop, it allows her to remain aloof and detached when necessary.

Her heart and soul, those endless sources of love and compassion. Like underground springs, they pump the warmth and kindness throughout her, fueling her every thought, action and feeling.

Her passion, bursting from her loins, consuming her entirely on those rare occasions, when she fully relinquishes control. The raging fire burns through her, scorching like the desert heat, filling her with near-unquenchable lust.

These elements complete her, and make her The One.

I am not the first, though I hope to be the last. Men have dreamed of her, hoped for her, fought for her, bled for her, died for her. Women have pledged their babies to her, to her defense. All who encounter her fall under her spell and are lost. For none are deserving of her, none are worthy, and so she toys with their hearts and minds, satisfying her every need. And we all love her for it. Not one of us would hold back from doing it again, from falling for her, serving her, being lost to her.

Because it was, is, and always will be her. No request she makes too great, no whim intolerable. She graces me with her presence, and I pledge my devotion to her.

And I can only hope that when the time comes to join her, be the terms what they may, she accepts me, unconditionally, as I have always accepted her. I dream of the day she wraps her arms around me, embracing me as a lover, pulling me closer than possible. And as I sink into her, as a man lowered into his final resting place, I will think of my life, look back, and rejoice.

For she is my love, my home, my land.

She is my Israel.