Safe, Sane, Consensual

Safe.  A white room, well - lit.  A soft floor.  The security of my bindings, and the freedom to move around, testing the environment.  How does it feel to walk like this.  How does it feel to breathe this new air.  How does it feel with my body vulnerable to You.  How does it feel to trust You.  Will you listen to my limits?  Will you say, out loud, that You protect my limits?  Will you say, out loud, that You will do nothing to tease me about having limits?  You will do nothing to push my limits, because my limits are there to prevent pushing?  There is a whole, big, beautiful room to explore; there is no need to see what is behind the door.  The door is shut for a reason: and that reason is mine.  I feel safe in this room.  I feel safe with my limits, and with how well You respect my limits, and love my limits, because they are part of me.

Sane.  Nice, straight lines.  Regimented, regular schedule.  Proper proportion, moderation, and balance.  The horizon is a straight line, and everything flows from the line that extends into forever.  Private time to meditate and contemplate: to process what I have learned, and to turn back towards You and smile, understanding.  You have shown me.  My future You, my present me loves You for the nice, straight lines, regimented and regular schedule, and Your moderation and balance.  We do nothing that we have not talked about.  We do nothing that You cannot control.  Everything that we do is a measure of Your control.  Everything that we do is evidence of Your mastery of self, and mastery of me.

Consensual Consent.  I bear my burden willingly.  The chains about my neck are light.  The bindings at my feet are anchors, not weights.  You take from me what I would willingly give: You take from me all that I have, and curiously it simply fills me with more.  The Private Garden where You tend is full of me.  The vessel of secrets is capped until You open it and find me, a pool of wanting, rippling therein.  I am so easy to decipher, for You.  I am, for others, hieroglyphs without the guiding stone; monuments without meaning.  The brambles and the thorns, the teeth and the rats' nests, the Medusa head and the stone statues of men that line the garden path... I wander past souls of the troubled, and I try to keep my heart intact.  When there is only You.  Only ever was.  Only ever will be.  When I finally find You, it will be a moment of awakening, and then I will cry out YES  once more, and these dreams will be forgotten.