Adam's mind is a collage of created things, antler and antenna, fin and flank, trunk and tail,

so many animals bearing the names he bestowed. This one's called an antelope, such an act of authority naming, but here he is, ruling as a son

of Yahweh, the throne, his birthright. And naming each of these creatures, it's brought

Adam close to them, given each of them significance. It's required observation and engendered wonder.

It's as if assigning language to Yahweh's work, speaking that word aloud, affirms the reality

and the goodness of what God has done. Leopard, Osprey, gorilla, Adam has literally enchanted creation at the behest of Yahweh.

He continues exploring, taking in the ineffable breadth of the divine imagination.

The man notices that the animals don't just differ in anatomy, but personality, temperament, gregariousness.

He notices, too, that none of them is like him.

Not really.

The dog he likes.

The cat, but then the cat didn't seem to like him.

But he has yet to look into a creature's eyes and see the same light.

It's almost as if Yahweh breathed a different kind of breath into the animals than he did into the man.

Adam notices himself feel something, something that feels off. It's as though his enjoyment

of partnership and intimacy is unsatisfied. He has no words for it yet, but Adam is lonely.

Yahweh nods, good.

It's by design, of course, this feeling, this realization.

The creator has constructed for Adam a journey of awareness and desire that runs parallel

to the journey Yahweh went on as he created the world.

It is not good for the man to be alone, announces Yahweh with knowing eyes.

The angels nod, surely, having anticipated this, they are so very excited.

...