You are beautiful, my darling, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, majestic as troops with banners. Turn your eyes from me; they overwhelm me. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing. Each has its twin, not one of them is alone. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate. Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number; but my dove, my perfect one, is unique, the only daughter of her mother, the favourite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her. (Song of Songs 6:4-9)

The Lover appears. His praise echoes a similar description at the beginning of the fourth chapter.

Not previously emphasized is the Beloved as unique. Ariel and Chana Bloch offer,

One alone is my dove,
My perfect, my only one...

We are each one and only, we are each unique, and we crave to be known. We crave to be known deeply and fully.

St. John of the Cross wrote,

She lived in solitude,
and now in solitude has built her nest;
and in solitude he guides her,
he alone, who also bears
in solitude the wound of love.

According to St. John only one who is wounded - made vulnerable - by love can know another. It is shared vulnerabilty that allows for shared understanding.

In his commentary the Spanish saint explains, "The Bridegroom bears a great love for the solitude of the soul; but he is wounded much more by her love since, being wounded with love for him, she desired to live alone in respect to all things. And he does not wish to leave her alone, but wounded by the solitude she embraces for his sake, and observing that she is dissatisfied with any other thing, he alone guides her, drawing her to and absorbing her in himself."