Esoteric Submission

Perhaps if his Divinity is merciful, and
grants balance, A little slave may
come back to her bruised
knees in some deeply
stark fragrant night,
And take
Dark
avenues to calm the storm, bending of
her will. A slave will kneel
down low, to the resounding
echos of soul chains,
And that long
gentle thunder,
Lingers
in her minds-eye, perpetually in the
wide starlight. Hopes that a slave
will see wholly, a limitless
twilight subjugation, to embrace
her place gracefully,
becoming fully
Owned.