My beloved I long to come to you, to be intimate with you. I linger outside the door to your heart. I thrust my hand through the small opening you have left, that I might leave even the fragrance of my presence, that I might draw you out into a place of freedom. How my heart longs to meet with you! I am lovesick for the one I adore. Arise my beloved, come away. Let me take you into the high places; let me gaze upon your beauty. Open my beloved, open to me. I want only good for you, I will contend for you, for you are my heart’s desire, the apple of my eye. Here I am, I stand at the door and knock. Will you open for me, My beloved?

Song of Songs 5:2-6
I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking:
“Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
I have taken off my robe – must I put it on again? I have washed my feet – must I soil them again?
My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him.
I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt.
I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer.


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