His words…I’ve heard them before from others. His desire to serve, to worship, to kneel, to obey, to give, to be denied. To suffer for me when pain is not his pleasure but pleasing is his driving force. His longing to surrender and release all of him (body, soul, spirit) to me. I listen and I wonder…will I be able to SEE him? Has he searched his own soul and discovered the ability to be vulnerable?
He is a master at crafting his words making my emotions surge and I wonder if he has the touch to make me want him; take him; own him. He may be able to fool me for a time as I wish and hope that this time what is being offered is not hollow words but a deep cry from the soul of a hidden child wanting to be recognized and accepted. Has it been so long since the genuine has been laid at my feet that I’ve forgotten the sound of an invalidated heart?
His words slowly and purposely move across the page as my eyes with some disbelief follow closely the picture he is painting. Somewhere deep inside me my heart connects to a familiar tone in his words. The phrases he chooses to reveal his deepest desires. Ones that can not be found out of a book or off a web site but only in the heart of one who has searched since a young boy to quench the thirst and satisfy the hunger that naturally and innocently was awaken long ago. A need that has gnawed at his core all his life and now in his later years refuses to be put to sleep. It’s longing and cry echoed across the highway that connects souls and found itself drawn to mine. We agree to meet. Will I find the same man that I’ve been drawn to through his words?
Immediately as we sit across the table my eyes fall into his. Deep pools of hunger, thirst and vulnerability. I see the heart of the man behind the beauty of his word crafting. I see a man who has taken the time to sift through his soul and reconcile what is important for his well being. A capable, successful, creative and brilliant man who sees in me the sanctuary to relinquish his armor and bare his soul to one who will understand, receive and celebrate the beauty of his natural submission.
I can feel the increase of our hearts pounding as we share face to face and study the expressions behind each other’s words.
What makes him beautiful in my eyes? What keeps his words flowing through my mind? What makes me trust that his submission to me is true?
It’s there in the longing in his eyes. Not a desperate need but the relief of a man who has found acceptance. The hint of joyous tears wet his eyes. He slightly trembles at the touch of my hand upon his arm. His lips ache as they imagine the softness of mine. His strength presses against my soul and I can feel his lips upon my own even though they have yet to meet.
He has captured my attention. Magic is building. Vulnerability is its creator.