Jonathan

        I stay awake and try to find some way to honor--to express what my eyes see, these windows the King speaks of, how to characterize in gentle words, in simple strokes, for something so pure, so deep, must be spoken of in unsearchable words, in gentle simplicity as too many syllables say "Who may ascend?" and "Who is worthy?", to which we answer "None but You," and yet You have opened two pairs of eyes, mine which see and are awash in what I see. Finally, finally I cry, this one I love, whose fame went before him, whose name is power and sweetness, who catches me although I am a daughter of the sea and set down to cling to and love the mountains--this man who matches mountain and sea, rugged range strong and enduring, gentle and alive and inviting as the tide, this man who spreads his mantle to cover me and I am safe beneath his wings.
        Carved like ivory, beds of spices, washed with milk, fitly set.
        Chief among ten thousand
                  I am lost to all else
        As if fascinated
                  As if solving mysteries and coming alive
        This is my beloved and this is my friend
                  (I love his name!)
                  Jonathan