Author: Maria Azcapri
Oh man, how beautiful you are, you were created by The One, Whom once wholeheartedly envisaged you, with His mind, conceived you.
Knitted in precise cross-stitch of alive threads, soft as the silkiest most fine string, and complex as the incomprehensible of the sublime.
All made of one piece, as The Mashiah’s Robe, with no seams to be found, a coverage made to protect your inner human being, the one providing you temperature, pain and love awareness.
Rivers of life running through you veins, cleansing your inner machinery. The oxygen you breathe, His breath…
As eyes, sparkling gate doors to a world, as the outer portion of your mind, your brain.
Receptive to scents, to sounds and music, He created you and the world at your feet to your enjoy. He filled it with brush colorful paintings, textures and flavors, solely to delight your taste buds. Embed words in your lips, that endow my soul.
He designed you, with the perquisite of perpetuating your cells, your looks, for the prevalence of your inheritance, little successors of you, leaning on your loving care, to become great beyond grown. He gifted you with parenthood, so you could relate to His way of developing you, and seize tender devote love, as the father, to his son.
He gave you muscles, and from a different kind of weave, He made you a Heart, where He deposited His Science, capable to feel, to experience the splendor of love. As any beloved treasure, He guarded it with an armature, made of solid bone, your rib, from where He teared me out, giving me the privilege, for you to name me, woman.
Your helper, your counterpart, the recipient of your offspring and your love, the love in which He loved me when He made me your wife,
Who can find a virtuous and capable wife?
She is more precious than rubies.
Her husband can trust her,
and she will greatly enrich his life.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She finds wool and flax
and busily spins it.
She is like a merchant’s ship,
bringing her food from afar.
She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household
and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.
She goes to inspect a field and buys it;
with her earnings, she plants a vineyard.
She is energetic and strong,
a hard worker.
She makes sure her dealings are profitable;
her lamp burns late into the night.
Her hands are busy spinning thread,
her fingers twisting fiber.
She extends a helping hand to the poor
and opens her arms to the needy.
She has no fear of winter for her household,
for everyone has warm clothes.
She makes her own bedspreads.
She dresses in fine linen and purple gowns.
Her husband is well known at the city gates,
where he sits with the other civic leaders.
She makes belted linen garments
and sashes to sell to the merchants.
She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future.
When she speaks, her words are wise,
and she gives instructions with kindness.
She carefully watches everything in her household
and suffers nothing from laziness.
Her children stand and bless her.
Her husband praises her:
“There are many virtuous and capable women in the world,
but you surpass them all!”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the LORD will be greatly praised.
Reward her for all she has done.
Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.
Is there a greater form of gratefulness, than to thank life, with love? Is there a greatest form of love than being born, giving breath, giving birth?
If he who serves is the greatest, who am I that serve the man? If he, the first one, is the leader, who is he, that is the head? How would I not love you man, when you were made for loving me, how would you not love me, if I was made, for loving you.
Have we not gotten to understand, that it was a clean pure, honest spirit and acceptance of the fault, that we lacked? The absence of communication, was our deficiency. When shall we finally under-stand to stand tall, pride free?
The less that we can do, is love each other as He loved us, with no requirements, but a clean open heart.
Because if hatred is evil, and goodness is love, whom is the master of your days, when you betray love?
Appreciativeness, is joy towards the gift.
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