Return to me, my love

She looks back at me, a guilty look on her face, as I stand silent, willing her to return to me, holding out my arms to her.

Return to me, my love.

She makes up her mind; she turns, grasping her lover's arm, letting herself be led away.

I know what she's doing. I know what she's thinking. She'll make up for it tomorrow, apologize until she's convinced herself she's blameless. She doesn't NEED to beat herself up; I'll forgive her freely... but the relationship won't be the same. She'll be distracted, dissatisfied. She'll leave again. It will become harder and harder for her to resist temptation. She'll forget what our love used to be - peace, ecstasy, satisfaction. She will drift, she'll be unhappy, for no lover can promise her the faithfulness I lavish on her daily.

Return to me, my love.

She is my bride, my love, my image. She is mine and I am hers; I delight in her being, in her passion, in her joy. I am the bridegroom; she is my friend. I watch over her, care for her, provide for her. I hold her in my hands, draw her close to me in my arms. I am strong. I am merciful. I will never leave her nor forsake her. I am faithful despite her unfaithfulness. I am forever. I am God.

Does she know it is I who satisfies? Does she know it is I who is good?

I am her knight in shining armor, who rescued her from the mighty dragon, who loves her more than anyone else could.

I love her.

I LOVE her.

I took away the blood-red stain of her impurity and clothed her in bright white love. I gave my very life for her.

I will continue to pursue her. And I will never let her go.