SHOW ME THESE THINGS

So you, you who have never let go, how do you understand my freedom?
Does it seem strange that in bondage to a true Master, I feel a great release?
Do you know how it feels, in the hands of another to be free from the distraction
of the body, deprived of sight, sound, and motion, feeling my hands useless,
with leg’s unable to run, in a world where time stands still, for I, alone?

There, bound helpless, I lose all sense of self, I hear a sound I do not recognise,
an animals groan. It is I, me beyond human, bound, freed from the politics,
and tyranny, of this body I shed the burden of my physical form, free from
the shackles of any pathetic idea of self that I might conjure. Helpless,
there alone in time and space my soul finds its voice, to sing its own guttural cry of freedom.

It’s the greatest of gifts I have known, freed to risk not being I, to reap the joy
of going beyond the boundaries of any I, I have known, where my idea of I is challenged,
when sexual, physical bondage narrows my identity, where the cages I build around my fears,
that deny the rich surprise of the freedom of other are thrown open, to free my soul from its bondage.

There the barriers born of fear dissolve the limits of my small self.
There I grow to be the slave I can be, beyond the confines of the self I once hid in shame.
Rejecting a world still held fast by its own anal, rigid convention, where cowardly
they call me “pervert,” not knowing the beauty of submission lies not in the act, but in the strength
of the will of I, that they, or you cannot stand against.

But you “Leather Master,” Sir. Safe in your dead cow cover, with boots
to protect your tender soul - arse hole - you who kick without reason.
You who would have me kneel before you.
You who would have me bend to your rules.
What do you know of a slaves shameless, fearless freedom?
What do you know of the freedom of the bondage you would bind me with?
You, one hundred percent a top, rigid, bound by old guard convention.
Where is your courage, Sir?

What dark, lonely place did you go to, to do your work, Sir?
How do you face your fear, Sir?
Do you know your pain, Sir?
Sir, how far do the rules of your making take you, when I challenge you?
Do I frighten you, when on my knees I see through Sir’s ego?
My superior, cartoon cloned in another’s image, who gave you your title, Sir?
Did you take it from your demons, Sir, or are you a slave to them still, Sir,
Did you earn it Sir, in a one act play, corrupt with greed?
Or was it given in a scene of substance, with empathy, care and love, Sir?

So you, you still wish to Master me, would have me kneel before you?

Then without Ego Sir. With respect, without false pride, with Honesty
and Humility, Sir, show me these things - Sir;
Show me your fear, show me your pain, show me you too are only human.
Show me with courage, the bare soul you would have me massage.
Show me, stripped bare, that you love your true self.
Show me, you’ve mastered false pride, and ego.
Show me these things, and I will show you my respect.
Show me respect and I will give you my trust.
Show me the way, and I will follow wherever together we may go,
Master and Slave, unafraid to find another love in that dark place,
beyond the fetters of convention, where you alone may set me free.

© David Gregory Barns 2017