Oh, my King. 
My God of Wisdom. 
My God of Passion. 

I feel Your presence. 
Like a raging storm, Your love devours. 
Yet, Your lips taste of honey, sweet and smooth. 
Your hands are rugged and stern, yet soft and gentle. 
Your caress is warm and light, like Sunna’s rays on a spring day. 

You trace the curve of my neck. 
That leaves a trail of burning desire, across my skin. 
You stop just above my breast. 
You take back Your touch, and my body writhes without it. 

You smile. 
You revel in my cravings, in my begging, my lusting. 
I need You. I want You. 
I yearn for Your touch. 
I grasp for You, but You are beyond my reach. 

I feel You, like lightning. 
You thrust Your white-hot blade, deep within my being. 
You plunge again and again. 
I savor Your every thrust, Your every penetration. 
It sends me deeper into euphoria. 

You leave my chest heaving. 
My body aching and my heart quivering. 
I feel Your lips again, sweet and smooth. 
You return the breath You stole. 

You leave me again. 
Craving, yearning for Your touch, Your love. 
Oh, My King. 
My Divine Beloved.