​​​Chapter 14

 

Personal Reflections on Song of December 2025

(Draft — author’s personal comments)

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This section allows me to record my present perception as it continues to rise, sometimes subtly and sometimes unexpectedly, as I prayerfully dwell on the expressions of this Song. After all the research above—and many other reflections not written in this chat—I feel compelled to acknowledge something simple but important: the layers woven by Solomon under the inspiration of holy spirit are deep, delicate, and abundant. Yet when I approach them, they intertwine with my own feelings in a way that is uniquely personal.

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I do not presume that others will feel these same nuances or arrive at the same inner tones that appear in my heart. I simply share mine as an illustration of how vast the spiritual world of this Song can be. Its language invites each reader to step inside a different kind of perception—one that speaks gently, sometimes only as a whisper, and that teaches each person in a way fitting for their own journey.

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What I write here is not an interpretation of the Song. It is the echo of how certain expressions touch me at this moment in my life. These impressions may deepen or shift as I grow, because the Song itself seems to rise with me, always a step higher, always inviting further elevation of thought and spirit.

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(1:1) The Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s.​

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The fact that it is written by Solomon makes me think of a person adopted as a son of God, one whose birth came not merely through human will but through the incorruptible seed of God’s Word—His promise and His covenant. I think of someone kissed by God, whose mind was wrapped with God’s wisdom, whose heart was blessed with sensing the aroma of the higher King, tested in separation and yet never abandoned in loyal love, just like the Shulammite—exactly as Jehovah promised to Solomon’s father David:

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2 Samuel 7:11–14 (NWT):‘Also, Jehovah has told you that Jehovah will make a house for you.
When your days come to an end and you are laid to rest with your forefathers, then I will raise up your offspring after you, your own son, and I will firmly establish his kingdom.
He is the one who will build a house for my name, and I will firmly establish the throne of his kingdom forever.
I will become his father, and he will become my son. When he does wrong, I will reprove him with the rod of men and with the strokes of the sons of men.
My loyal love will not be taken away from him the way I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you.
Your house and your kingdom will be secure forever before you; your throne will be firmly established forever.”

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Solomon’s adoption into Jehovah’s sonship is, to me, one of the most expressive examples in the entire Bible. And although Jesus said that no one ascended to the heavens before John the Baptist, this adoption allowed Solomon to stand in a position where the heavenly reality could be perceived—once Jesus stepped behind the curtain, the veil. That same veil appears in the Song of Songs, and it gives me the impression that, by credit or token, something of that perception was allowed to Solomon. His mind was trained to communicate realities that belong to heaven, just as Moses received his through vision and hearing, and Paul perceived his through both.

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While Solomon’s journey has become a sharp point of interest for me, Jehovah also gives me a personal perception—one that, in my opinion, harmonizes with Solomon’s—allowing me to approach this Song with a sense of closeness, recognition, and reverence.

 

Young Woman (1:2,3)

“May he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,

for your expressions of affection are better than wine.
The fragrance of your oils is pleasant.

Your name is like a fragrant oil poured out.

 

What I am sharing here reflects what I believe Solomon wrote with a deeper meaning—one that he himself was fully aware of and expressed with great clarity. Although he heard these words from an ordinary young woman, who likely did not perceive the layers of spiritual significance that he embedded into his song, Solomon recorded them with an inner intention far richer than her own experience.

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I want to share what I think moved Solomon to compose this Song: a spiritual perception shaped by his adoption as Jehovah’s son, by the wisdom that filled his heart, and by the delight he experienced in sensing the presence of the higher King. These inner experiences allowed him to take simple human expressions and set them into a framework that carried profound spiritual depth. What the Shulammite voiced in her own context, Solomon elevated into a poem that reflects the yearning of a heart trained to recognize and respond to the affection that comes from above.

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Below are carefully selected passages from Proverbs 1–10 (NWT) that naturally echo the emotional and relational tone of Shulammite

• affection expressed through words,

• wisdom received as something better than wine or material pleasure,

• intimate nearness,

• a personal longing to be taught, corrected, and embraced by Wisdom,

• Solomon’s deep attachment to Wisdom as if to a beloved figure.

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1. Wisdom’s words as something deeply desirable — better than material delight

Proverbs 3 (NWT):
“Happy is the man who finds wisdom
and the man who acquires discernment,
for having it is better than having silver
and having it as gain is better than gold.
It is more precious than corals;
nothing you desire can compare to it.”

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This parallels:
“Your expressions of affection are better than wine.”

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2. Wisdom speaking with a personal, inviting voice

Proverbs 1 (NWT):
“Wisdom keeps calling out in the street.
She raises her voice in the public squares.
She calls out at the city gates;
she says, ‘Turn back at my reproof.’”

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The “calling,” the voice, the invitation — these arise from a relationship-like closeness that reflects the tone of longing and responsiveness found in the Song.

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3. Wisdom embracing the one who seeks her

Proverbs 4 (NWT):
“Do not forsake her, and she will guard you.
Love her, and she will safeguard you.
Wisdom is the most important thing, so acquire wisdom…
Cherish her, and she will exalt you.
She will honor you because you embrace her.”

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Here Solomon describes Wisdom in language very similar to affection, protection, and nearness — even using “embrace”, a physical expression also present in the Song’s imagery.

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4. Wisdom as a personal companion from youth

Proverbs 8 (NWT):
“I, wisdom, dwell with shrewdness…
When he established the heavens, I was there…
I was the one he was especially fond of day by day;
I rejoiced before him all the time.”

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This shows Solomon presenting Wisdom as a presence that brings joy, closeness, and continual delight — very similar to “kisses,” “fragrance,” and “expressions of affection.”

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5. Wisdom’s words that enter the heart like sweetness

Proverbs 2 (NWT):
“My son, if you accept my sayings
and treasure up my commandments,
by making your ear attentive to wisdom
and inclining your heart to discernment…”

And:

Proverbs 2 (NWT):
“Wisdom will enter your heart,
and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.”

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The inward movement — wisdom “entering the heart” — parallels the nearness of affection in Song 1:2.

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6. Wisdom as a beloved woman calling for loyalty

Proverbs 7 (NWT):
“Say to wisdom, ‘You are my sister,’
and call understanding ‘a close relative.’”

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Solomon speaks as if Wisdom is a person with whom one forms a bond of affection and loyalty — again corresponding to the emotional language of the Song.

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7. Wisdom’s rebuke presented as an act of love

Proverbs 3 (NWT):
“My son, do not reject the discipline of Jehovah
and do not loathe his reproof,
for those whom Jehovah loves he reproves,
just as a father does a son in whom he delights.”

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This “delight” and loving correction mirrors the affectionate relational tone Solomon used elsewhere.

Summary of Parallels

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Across Proverbs 1–10, Solomon consistently speaks of Wisdom in ways that reflect:

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• affection

• intimacy

• delight

• joy in hearing the voice

• embrace and nearness

• something better than gold, silver, or wine

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These emotional and relational expressions form a natural bridge to the language of Song of Songs 1:2:
“May he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,
for your expressions of affection are better than wine.”

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In Proverbs, Solomon uses Wisdom as the figure through whom he expresses these same deep inner experiences.

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In Proverbs, he described the reception of wise sayings as something better than silver and better than gold, and even said, “nothing you desire can compare to it.” He felt that wisdom’s words entered the heart gently, “and knowledge became pleasant to the soul.” Such expressions reveal a man whose inner world was already shaped by a longing for something higher—a longing that searched for nearness, for a voice that could be trusted, and for a form of affection that does not belong to earthly pleasures.

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Solomon wrote that if one would “cherish her, she will exalt you,” and that wisdom would honor the one who embraces her. This embrace is not physical, yet it carries the warmth of closeness, the sweetness of being understood, and the blessing that comes from sensing the presence of the higher King. Even in Proverbs, Wisdom speaks with a personal voice, calling out, inviting, correcting, and appealing to the heart. Solomon experienced her as a companion, saying, “I was the one he was especially fond of day by day; I rejoiced before him all the time.”

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That same inner world reappears here in the Song of Songs. The yearning for “kisses” reflects the same deep desire to receive expressions of affection that are “better than wine,” just as he once felt wisdom’s gain to be greater than all material joy. To me, this suggests that the language Solomon uses in this Song comes from the same place in his heart—a place trained to recognize beauty that comes from above, and to respond to it with longing and delight.

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I know there is no way for me to comment on every verse in this Song. I am trying to keep my reflections as brief as I can, yet I also understand how precious such revelations can be to appreciative ears. For that reason, I cannot pass over the phrase: “The fragrance of your oils is pleasant. Your name is like a fragrant oil poured out.”

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This touches something deep within me, because it connects with the sacred anointing oil that was used to anoint Aaron. Its aroma was unique and unmatched—set apart for holy use—and I sense the same spiritual fragrance woven throughout Solomon’s writings. It represents, to me, the aroma that comes from the only-begotten Son, the beloved one, whose love reaches those who respond to it and unavoidably initiates the beginning of a new creation within them. The spirit of this anointing starts new life in such hearts.

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I wish that everyone could feel this transformational aroma—something gentle, inward, and unmistakably different—because once it touches a person, it begins shaping them from within, just as Solomon described it so beautifully in his Song.

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Young Woman (1:4a)

"That is why the young women love you.
Take me with you (lit.,“Draw me after you.”); let us run."

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When I read the words, “That is why the young women love you. Take me with you; let us run,” I cannot help but think of the many times in the Scriptures when love, recognition, and calling resulted in movement — immediate, joyful movement — toward the one who is loved. This yearning to be drawn and to run resonates with Jesus’ own invitation, “Come to me,” when he said: “Come to me, all you who are toiling and loaded down, and I will refresh you… and you will find refreshment for your souls.” It also harmonizes with the moment when Jesus turned to the disciples who were following him and asked, “What are you looking for?” and then said, “Come, and you will see.” The spirit of running after the Beloved is also in his words, “No one can come to me unless the Father, who sent me, draws him.”

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There is the same urgency in Jesus’ teaching about the man who discovered the hidden treasure and “goes and sells everything he has” to take hold of it. Movement. Readiness. Joy. The heart awakened and unable to remain still.

Paul expressed this same inner motion: “the love of the Christ compels us.” The young women in the Song of Songs love the Beloved — and that love moves them. Paul describes his spiritual life in terms of running: “I am running to see if I may also lay hold on that for which Christ Jesus selected me… pressing on toward the goal.” This is perhaps the clearest echo of the Shulammite’s cry: “Take me with you; let us run.” He also wrote that God “always leads us in a triumphal procession in company with the Christ,” showing the image not merely of running but of being led forward. He reminded the congregations that they had “run well,” and he spoke of a love — the love of the Christ — from which nothing can separate us.

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This pattern appears vividly in the Gospel accounts. When Mary Magdalene saw the stone rolled away, she ran to Simon Peter to tell him. And then Peter and John ran toward the tomb. John ran faster, but Peter, moved by his own longing and urgency, ran straight inside without hesitation. Later, when Peter recognized the risen Lord at the Sea of Galilee, he did not wait for the boat to reach shore; he threw himself into the sea and ran through the water toward him. Their bodies simply followed the pull of their hearts.

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Philip, too, ran when the angel directed him to the Ethiopian eunuch. The account says he ran alongside the chariot — again the same readiness, the same willingness to move quickly toward the one whom Jehovah was drawing.

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Jesus’ illustration of the ten virgins adds yet another layer. Though all ten carried lamps, only the wise virgins were prepared to rise at the call of the bridegroom and go with him. Their immediacy, their alertness of heart, and their willingness to move without delay reflect the same inner motion expressed by the Shulammite: the desire to be drawn and to run with the Beloved.

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All these accounts — Peter, John, Mary, Philip, the wise virgins, the disciples who followed Jesus’ “Come and see,” Paul running toward Christ, the love that compels — reveal something consistent: when the call comes, when recognition dawns, when love awakens, faithful ones run.

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They are drawn.
They are led.
They respond.
They move.

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Their hearts cannot remain still. This is why the words of the Shulammite feel so genuine and familiar: “Take me with you; let us run.” It is the natural response of a heart already touched by the presence and affection of the One it loves.

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Draw me.
Lead me.
I will run after you.
Your love compels me.
Your presence moves me.
I cannot resist your call.

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This is the spiritual motion carried in Song of Songs 1:4a — the interplay of love, calling, movement, and joyful pursuit.

 

 

 

 

Young Woman (1:4b,c,e,d)

The king has brought me into his interior rooms!

"Let us be joyful and rejoice in you.

Let us praise your expressions of affection more than wine."

Rightly they love you.

 

Here the Shulammite is not making a request — she is reporting what is happening. The king has brought me into his interior rooms. The context is not frightening or harsh; she is at peace. There is no sense of physical danger, no atmosphere of force or pressure. To me, her tone feels observational, almost as if she is describing a shift in perception rather than an imposed situation.

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Even though, in real life, a young woman being brought into a king’s inner rooms might suggest intimate closeness or the possibility of selection for the royal household, the way she speaks does not carry the weight of seduction or fear. Instead, it reminds me more of what Esther experienced in the Persian court — a chosen one presented with an opportunity, brought into a space reserved for those who are being considered for something higher.

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But because Solomon is the one writing this Song, I sense that he intends something more elevated than a moment of physical intimacy or royal procedure. If everything I expressed earlier holds true, then I suspect Solomon is introducing here the theme of the inner room of the Higher King — not merely his own. It feels as though he lifts the scene beyond the earthly palace and lets a spiritual pattern appear beneath it.

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Meanwhile, the daughters of Jerusalem respond with admiration: “Let us rejoice in you… let us praise your expressions of affection more than wine.” They rejoice not only because of the Shulammite’s experience, but because they themselves recognize what is beautiful within the king’s presence. She, in turn, agrees: “Rightly they love you.”

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To me, this reinforces that what the daughters admire is not simply Solomon’s royal charm or the atmosphere of his court. They are responding to the same qualities Solomon himself cherished — the expressions of affection, the fragrance, the wisdom, the elevated atmosphere that filled his inner rooms. The Shulammite sees it too. She acknowledges that their love is justified, because what they witness in those rooms is something beyond ordinary human warmth. It is the same fragrance Solomon carried through his writings and the same presence that shaped his inner life.

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In this way, the inner rooms in the Song feel less like a physical chamber and more like a perceptive space, a spiritual nearness where admiration, joy, and recognition naturally arise.

 

 

 

 

Young Woman (1:5,6):

I am dark, but lovely, O daughters of Jerusalem,

like the tents of Kedar, like the tent cloths of Solomon.
Do not stare at me because I am swarthy,

because the sun has gazed upon me.

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The sons of my mother were angry with me;

they appointed me the keeper of the vineyards,

but my own vineyard I did not keep.

 

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After describing her entrance into the king’s interior rooms, the Shulammite suddenly turns her attention to the daughters of Jerusalem. What she says next is both humble and revealing: “I am dark, but lovely.”

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To me, this is not a statement of insecurity but an honest acknowledgment of contrast. She knows she carries signs of hardship. She has been exposed to the sun, shaped by labor, and marked by experiences that others did not share. Yet she also knows there is a beauty within her — a beauty not erased by the outward marks of her life.

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The daughters of Jerusalem see her lifted into an environment far above her station. From their perspective, she may not fit the image expected in a royal setting. And yet she speaks as one who understands a deeper truth: she is lovely, not by her own merit alone, but by the grace and recognition extended to her first by her shepherd boy, and now, on top of that, by the unexpected acceptance she receives from Solomon.

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Her words remind me of every sincere person who feels unworthy yet is drawn near by the One who sees beyond outward appearance. In spiritual calling, a similar clarity emerges: it comes from knowing who loves us, and from being noticed, accepted, and brought inward — into the “inner rooms” of deeper understanding and perception.

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The imagery of the tents of Kedar and the tent cloths of Solomon sets a perfect contrast — roughness beside refinement, weathered fabric beside royal texture. She stands between both realities. She has lived the life of labor and exposure, yet she has also been brought into the king’s inner rooms.

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It is as though she is saying to the daughters:
“I know what I look like in your eyes. But I also know who I am.”

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Her identity is no longer defined by the heat of the sun or the anger of her brothers, who pressed her into labor and made her keeper of vineyards that were not her own.

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Although the Shulammite has been brought into the king’s interior rooms, I do not sense that she receives her deepest security or comfort from Solomon himself. Her peace in this moment does not arise from royal privilege or elevation in the palace. Rather, I feel that what steadies her is the love she already carries within her heart — the love for her shepherd boy. That is the source of her confidence. That is the relationship that defines her identity.

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When she says, “I am dark, but lovely,” she is not speaking as a woman who suddenly feels secure because a king has noticed her. Instead, she speaks as someone who knows she is already loved by the one she calls “you whom I love so much.” Her sense of worth does not originate in Solomon’s admiration, nor in the admiration of the daughters of Jerusalem. It comes from a purer and earlier place — the one whose affection she trusts, whose presence she longs for, and whose companionship shapes her sense of self.

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This adds an entirely different dimension to the scene in the inner rooms. She is not being seduced. She is not being flattered. She is not elevated by Solomon’s desire. She is observing, not surrendering. She is present, but her heart is not his. What we see is a young woman who has been placed in a position that does not match her true attachment. The daughters of Jerusalem rejoice in Solomon, and she acknowledges, “Rightly they love you,” but this does not alter her inner direction. Her heart belongs elsewhere.

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In this way, the “inner rooms” do not represent a place of emotional safety for her. They represent a moment of clarity — a realization that even the finest royal surroundings cannot replace the shepherd’s love. The palace exposes the contrast between two kinds of affection, and she instinctively knows which one is genuine for her.

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This understanding leads perfectly into her next words:

“Tell me, you whom I love so much…”

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She is speaking not to Solomon, and not to the daughters of Jerusalem, but to him — the one who truly matters to her.

 

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Young Woman (1:7)

Tell me, you whom I love so much,

where you pasture your flock,

where you have them lie down at midday.

Why should I be like a woman wrapped in a veil

among the flocks of your companions?”

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Here Solomon masterfully describes what lies in the heart of the Shulammite. He is not confused about her longing; he understands it with precision and respect. Though he is the king and she has been brought into his inner rooms, Solomon captures her words exactly as they are — the honest voice of a woman whose identity and affection remain anchored in her Beloved shepherd.

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Solomon is one of the few who can perceive the depth of her longing, because he himself knows what it means to desire the presence of the One who leads the sheep of His pasture. By writing her plea with such tenderness, he shows that he recognizes and perhaps even shares the spiritual direction of her heart.

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Her identity is centered on the recognition of the one she truly loves. Even while separated from him, her heart moves toward him without hesitation. Solomon does not distort this; he preserves it. He allows her longing to speak through his pen, honoring the purity of her attachment.

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Where the Great Shepherd guides His flock, where He brings them to rest at midday — that is where she belongs. Solomon seems to understand that no royal honor can replace the peace she finds in that relationship.

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When she says, “Why should I be like a woman wrapped in a veil…?” Solomon conveys the quiet pain of a heart concealed. She must hide her truest self in surroundings that cannot recognize it. The veil represents a depth of identity that neither Solomon nor the other shepherds of the land can fully see. Yet Solomon’s writing shows that he perceives more than others; he understands that her longing is not superficial or confused — it is rooted in the deepest part of who she is.

This portrayal reflects something profound: the Shulammite’s hidden yearning mirrors the inner reality of all those whose hearts belong to a higher Shepherd. Their identity may be veiled to others, but not to the One who truly knows them — and Solomon, with his spiritual insight, honors this truth by preserving her words in all their purity.