To my Love, Iman Z

In light, let it be lust of love, and let light enter my distance off strength in my armor.  I want to feel loved and to be loved in your love of all that is mine. I am your Dream Machine, and in that fine love, I find your lust mesmerizing to me.  I am yours and you are mine in the product of the mind, and in the body I find the spirit.  I am lust to you and in sensuality will I find you lustful upon a midnight sky in my learning of you.  I see you destitute upon the teachings of a scholar, and to find that love is to see you defined upon the sunset of my dreams.  I am yours in spirit and to sense your life is to understand desperation upon the  midnight tears in my eyes.  Among the mountains that come calling I will dream of hilltops full of bees dripping with please and ice upon the touch of the wind.  I am your tree of light, and in love, I find sense in all that fills me with passion as I write about your curves upon the touch of your breasts. Fill me with lust and passionate trust as I live the dream of myself embraced in your passionate arms.  Be passionate to me and tell me how sweet you are, my Lebanese/Syrian Queen.  I am the dream that is yours, in trust and let it fill me with desire in the lost love of my heart.  I am the vision of your dreams and in your love for me will I be realized upon the fountain of my desire in you.  In the light of all teaching, let the sky fall upon a midnight shade of green and upon the stars of tomorrow, let the light fall upon your beautiful eyes.  As I enter the black of night, let Autumn come calling upon the dreams of leaves as weary as your remembrance of winters dew and let it come calling in all that is new.   I am home now and as you come calling let me fall from my chair, as I stare, at the painting of my vision of serenity.  I am in love with you and all that is new as I fall endlessly, drifting from this fall and coming to a fantasy renewed.  Let it drift upon the seas and let it part of the disease of love in your sentence of me.  I find in this dream all that is found, to see it risen and all that is profound, to be of requiem, and all that is me..  Endlessly drifting in the night of winter, I will call upon your seasons of snow and forget me not to remember all that you know.  In the shadow of this fire, pleasure me not, but remember to tell me how much you love me not.