The Bride

I am a bride

Being prepared for my lover.

He, my bridegroom, awaits me.

I bathe in perfumed water,

And touch my skin with scented oil.

Cleansed and anointed will I go to him,

For I am ready for his embrace.

I yearn to feel his skin against mine,

Limbs entwined,

Lips locked together in passionate embrace.

But I fear it, too,

For I am afraid of what he will see.

And I am afraid, too,

Of my passion.

For too long has it remained dormant,

Asleep, unstirred, unexpressed.

Only he can unleash it.

Only he can set me free.

Will it overwhelm me?

Or will I lose all sense of myself?

Will I allow it to flow through me, my passion,

Unchecked, uncontrolled, unleashed?

Oh pray that I can,

For only then will I truly be free

To pierce the veil that binds me,

To step through the gateway,

Beyond the illusion,

Into Heaven.

‘Tis the union of Heaven and Earth

That arouses such ecstasy

As to be pleasure beyond imagination.

And yes, he, my bridegroom

Can take me there,

But only if I surrender all that I am,

And allow myself to be washed away

By the current of my passion

As it pours out of me.