It’s Your Turn

In mutual

loving servitude

of each other

we are exalted

by our own reflections

as seen

in each other’s eyes.

When Master meets Mistress,

as one directs

the other serves.

This time…

at least for now….

within our malleable union.

As Yin encircles Yang,

and bottom

supplants top,

it is certain that

each time

according to its season,

one will plow

to sow

what the other shall receive.

Every top needs a bottom.

Every bottom loves its top.

The wheel of eighty-eight

forever turning,

each will be

according to its season

and what you give

will

be revisited

before the cock

crows twice.

Who better than she knows

his innermost desires?

When he responds,

to be

a Top Dog

or her really Dirty Dog

he does it for her

as she does for him.

And when she holds the leash

he gratefully accepts the collar.

No need for whipping-post

nor whip

within our willing servitude.

And as she frees herself

of will and ego

she becomes the chalice

of all

energies,

a gathering place

for channeling

human lightning.

She is exalted,

the alter of the temple

of the Holy of Holies.

As rogue wave swells

take on

heaving rhythms

more frequent

with each set

She rides

from bottom to the top,

balanced

on the crest

of her wave,

now a powerful

Goddess

to be worshipped

until it becomes her time

to serve.

Once Again.

When he falls in love,

She becomes his greatest weakness.

When She falls in Love,

He becomes

her greatest strength.

And when again we recognize

that old familiar me

in me

I have no doubt

you’ll welcome

back

our binary love affair.

All things return unto The One

and I am Zero.

When You are Zero

I am One.

But always in Love

We are One.

And We are Also Zero.

(a slight aside…)

The bee goes from flower to flower

while the flower remains

to be visited by

all the other bees.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

06/23/2015

3 Responses to “It’s Your Turn”

  1. What I love in reading is imagining the place a writer writes from. Pieces – paintings like this fascinate me. There’s so much said that I can’t fathom creating that It leaves my imagination blasted with a smile of knowing that there are beautiful places of the mind that I have no knowledge of, still to be discovered and THAT is a comforting thing to me. This was beautiful.

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