The Bride

The world swirls like circling gulls over
your head, the shallow wash of waves
breaking ever so softly upon the shore

as you stand with your hands lax at
your side, the setting sun a beacon
of light hovering above the horizon,

the scorched sky lingering before
your eyes like the red and orange
flames of a torch licking each staggered

layer of gathering cloud, the wind light
and brisk as the faint breath of a
will-o-wisp fading into the night.

You are weightless, a feather suspended
in flight, your bones hollow as the bones
of an owl, floating slowly upwards in the open

air, your hair flowing behind you, glinting
like silk in the warm glow of the sun. Behind
you, the crawling moon is but the fading song

of a lovelorn loon, crying quietly for captive's
sake, his heart held high in the sky like the prize
of some heavenly hunter who is enraptured

at the mere sight of you, at the size of the setting
  sun that seems to spread itself out like canvas
          upon this page, at the sound of the waves

lapping the space around your ankles, already
free from the gritty grip of the sandy beach
that threatens to overtake you, that drinks

the rising tide like one dying of thirst,
wandering in the dry heat of the desert
for over a lifetime, seeking only rest

but finding none in the wilderness.
Still, you hover above all bitterness
of spirit, lifted far beyond the reaches

of earthly entanglement, the truth of a life
lived in the fulfillment of every divine
promise glistening like oil upon the skin

of your forehead, the holy anointing
appointing you as His beloved Bride to be
joined forever together with the King

above all Kings. You are a new creation, a being
transformed by the splendor of His majesty,
born out of love and bearing the mark of His glory,

radiant and alive in the heat of His mercy,
your heart purified in the light of His fiery
countenance, shining like the sun in all His brilliance.