Submission

***
There is a sweet Black to it all..

 The heavy hand.. the gentle sweep of

 flesh to flesh..

 I open myself to Him…

Heart.. Mind.. Soul..

 And He buries Himself well..

 His Mastery is the Tone..

 The Look..

 The Touch..

With Him.. I can be myself..

 I can give with all my heart..

 I can be vulnerable and innocent..

 I can be freed of Control

In His palm… I can place my life.

 I belong to Him.

 I am the clay

 He the molder..

 I bend to His will

 and He….

Will never break the fragile Gift of my submission

***


hoppe