The sound of small bell, or a wind chime, but there was no wind,
filled the air with a complex mysterious tone that whispered,
then grew into fullness, then faded slowly into invitation.
Silence followed, but not in my mind where the hypnotic tones
continued undiminished, soft and yet powerful, pushing
all thoughts away and pulling me into the focus of the tone.
The more my self dissolved into the moment, an arousal grew
until I only knew sound and arousal. I became pure arousal
with no thought, no analysis, no intellectuality, only need.
In that world of myself, I felt but could not analyze, the control
that filled me, the desire to perfectly please. Then memory came,
or was granted, and I remembered red lips whispering,
words that became more than words, that insinuated themselves
into every part of my essence. There was no release, just an increase
in the level of the intensity until I was no more than a voice
begging to serve, to pleasure, to sacrifice itself completely.
When I had burned red, then blue, violet and finally white
hot into a flame that You fed and tormented without mercy,
I knew that I had been shown heaven and I worshipped You.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet