The art of romance is finesse and timing. Too much and one can become wary. Too little and one begins to doubt the sincerity. I have been wooed ever so gently. At times I thought I’d be sick to my stomach from my own desires. Every nerve in my body feels electrified by nearness. My eyes scan horizons for beauty. I lay still in the night waiting to hear those whispers of love. My heart races unexpectedly when my love shows Himself, that I may recognize His beauty.
For all the ways I am drawn toward Him, I falter in my own understanding of just how much I am loved. I live the impossible dream. No man can love me this much, but it’s not man who calls me forth into this romance.
Words of the King “…You have ravished my heart with one look of your eyes…” SoS 4:9