This is the crucial moment. As if you were the cannon ball inside the fateful cannon. "Load 'er up, matey!" cries the peg-legged, one-eyed dread pirate Brownbeard. Tension sends chills down the crew's spines as they rush around the deck. Fire! Off you go, you are flying over the ocean, you can see the waves crashing wildly below you, your stomach leaps in the air and your short flight seems to last forever. But then again, it is over only too quickly. Rushing head on are the innocent wooden planks of the enemy ship. Your course is now unstoppable, any regrets you might have about being a cannonball are unimportant. There is a decided fate for you at this point: you will sink the ship.
The plainchant version of this might be difficult to understand. I don't know a word of Latin anyway, so it would be impossible for me to write it. So I guess I'll say it in a less holy way, but still something less secular than pirates. A sort of compromise, if you will, of religions. Sort of like how carrot is kind of a compromising vegetable. "Okay, you don't have to eat your greens, but at least eat a carrot, please?" That sort of compromise where I explain it in no other way than computer code. Geeky, old-fashioned, not to mention passe', but here goes.
If you don't get it (I couldn't really blame you) then maybe it would be better to consider a lesson. A lesson under the sea. A scuba diver following schools of jellyfish, surveying them behind the tinted clear plastic of his diving mask. He understands, he comprehends, but he cannot put it into words. This is the kind of feeling I seek to elicit. The sort of explanation necessary. Well, maybe a poem would be effective.
Ask him out.