The Song of the Bridegroom
    The song of songs, which is my voice,
    The upright shall hear, the virgin listen,
    For I am the song amid the terror
    I am the seeker of the light.
      
    I am caretaker to her silent need
    Of which she hides in the cleft of the rock
    For the thief has come and taken all her bounty,
    But cannot find the Garden where she dwell.
      
    The sun has looked upon me in my days of youth
    It has burnished my face,
    The spawn of my mother have raised against me
    They have become angry with me.
      
    They have set me keeper of their vineyards,
    So mine own vineyard I could not keep.
    I have made their flocks to rest at noon
    I have fed the kids beside their shepherds' tents.
      
    I have been cast out into darkness,
    By the mountains and by the hills I have dwelt.
    Great increase have I made of their sheep and of their goats
    That they be rich as lords of Solomon.
      
    Yet I am the seeker of the light,
    I am the watchman for the brides who wait.
    They are as one bride born into the wilderness
    Who go in danger, though they have no fear.
      
    Where shall I find you, oh my heart's desire?
    How shall I mend your veil which the watchman hath rent?
    For I have builded up a temple braced in cedar
    And rafters of fir.
      
    I will get me to the mountains of myrrh,
    And to the hills of frankincense,
    I will go from the lions' dens.
    And from the land of the leopards.
      
    For I shall seek you out.
    I shall take you under the cedars of Lebanon.
    I shall take you upon the bed of Solomon
    For his bed is green as the fields in spring.
      
    Behold, I standeth behind your wall,
    I looketh forth at the windows,
    Showing myself through the lattice.
    It is the voice of your beloved that knocks.
      
    My head is filled with dew,
    And my hair with the drops of the night.
    My hand is by the hole of your door.
    Where is the light of the lamp that I seek?
      
    For I am the rose of Sharon, the lily among the thorns
    My love is the Garden, rebuilt again
    As comely as old Jerusalem
    As terrible as an army with banners.
      
    My left hand shall be under your head.
    My right hand will embrace you.
    I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine,
    For the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
      
    The daughters saw her, and blessed her,
    The queens and the concubines, they praised her,
    For her linens were of the whitest snow
    And she has found the oil for her lamp.
      
    Who is she that looketh forth as the morning?
    Where has she gone, who is the greatest pearl?
    I shall go down into the Garden, the Garden of the lilies
    The fountain of Gardens, to the well of living waters.
      
    I have withdrawn myself, and am gone.
    I have risen now, and will go,
    I will go down into the valley of the lilies
    The lilies that are shining forth in light.
      
    Behold the Garden, behold the Eden promise
    Called back now from when it was lost,
    Found once again. And she has gone
    To feed upon the lilies in that place.
      
    Come to me, oh beloved,
    Oh daughter of Jerusalem, for I am sick in love.
    Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field
    There I will give thee my loves.
      
    Who will hear the voice of my beloved?
    I will come leaping upon the mountains,
    Skipping upon the hills
    For I do see the burning light of the lamp.
      
    How beautiful is the muscle of your legs
    To run my tongue along the sinew of your thigh
    To wet your member with the heat of my mouth
    That swells in hardness as the cedars of Lebanon.
      
    For you are the Woman of the Wilderness,
    Who has gone down into the Garden
    To the bed of lilies which stain your linens
    In golden pollen, as bright as the gold of Solomon.
      
    You have kept the lamp in the wilderness of the New World.
    You have gone down into the cave,
    Into the belly of our Mother Earth
    Where the lamp shines out through the stone portal.
      
    I come down into the Garden, to see
    The bounty of the valley, to see where my love had gone.
    I come to see if the vine flourish,
    If the path be light before me.
      
    I go to my beloved, and her desire is mine.
    I rub upon her member and spend myself,
    She spends herself upon my belly.
    I gather this holy water in my hand.
      
    I take it into my mouth and press my lips upon her.
    It flows into her mouth from me, as sweet as honeycomb
    And she moans for its taste as it melts into us
    And by this act we shall be one.
      
    The heat of your mouth is a burning fire  
    As I let my manself into it.
    My loins ache as I arch my back
    While pollen sift down upon us from the lily tree.
      
    Oh, my love, were you a stranger
    And I would find you wanting,
    I would carry you into my Mother's house,
    Into the chamber of her that conceived me.
      
    You shall lie down upon me in sleep
    And not be awakened until you please.
    The pollen of the lily shall stain us gold
    As we lie among the flowers, now at peace.
      
    I am the promise that comes out of the wilderness,
    I am the voice of love crying in the wilderness.
    I am as a seal upon your heart,
    A seal upon your bridehead.
      
    This love does not know what is death
    For when the lamp is lit it does not fail
    Though the sun may go out
    This light will not go out.
      
    Though darkness comes upon us, the lamp be lit.
    We shall see great waters flood around us,
    We shall see great fires consume what is around us,
    But what shall touch us here?
      
    What will we become, a wall?
    Then a palace of silver will form around us.
    Will we become a door?
    Then panels of silver will enclose around us.
      
    Here is a palace of every flower,
    Its walls which face new Eden.
    The light does not extinguish in the morning nor the night,
    And we need never rise from where we are.
      
    We who dwell in these Gardens,
    Happy bridegroom at his bride,
    Now whole, upon mountains of spices
    Have fulfilled the promise of our life.

     

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