solomon

im thinking about solomon tonight. about ecclesiastes. and, oddly, song of songs. strange to me that the same person presumably wrote the two.

i forgot how much i used to love ecclesiastes. i probably still do, but a few years ago i used to read it all the time - and also find such hope. which is odd, because it says things like:

meaningless! meaningless! says the teacher. utterly meaningless! everything is meaningless.

i think it always resonated with me. that truth. that everything is meaningless. if this is everything.

solomon clearly had a lot of passion. i like this: "remember your creator in the days of youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, 'i find no pleasure in them.'"

i dont know. this may seem disjointed. but i think it takes a passionate person to say something so violent as "utterly meaningless!" i would rather have someone conclude that the world is utterly meaningless than to not conclude anything it all. apathy is horrifying.

"now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter; fear god and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man."

i think that's why i always found hope in ecclesiastes.

and the same man wrote this:

may the wine go straight to my lover, flowing gently over lips and teeth. i belong to my lover, and his desire is for me. come, my lover, let us go to the countryside, let us spend the night in the villages. let us go early to the vineyards to see if the vines have budded, if their blossoms have opened, and if the pomegranates are in bloom - there i will give you my love. the mandrakes send out their fragrance, and at our door is every delicacy, both new and old, that i have stored up for you, my love.

my kind of man.