Beautiful War

Post title inspired by the song Beautiful War by Kings of Leon

There is a war I fight within myself, on the battlefield of servility. I am a submissive, but today (and on many days) I’m not so confident. I treasure the moments of humbleness and servitude. The ability to just be and not have to worry about the time, the minor inconsistencies, the ever-building list of items needing attendance. It’s difficult to just be and feel. I drive myself to clear my head, keep my thoughts at bay. I’ll take the time for them later.

During his absence I hold the reins of a million horses, pulling in different directions, threatening to pull me limb from limb. Resentment settles in. This is not what I want. I want the surrender, the deep focus on service and discovery. The frustration builds, and the energy of my submission is muted under the tumultuous emotions that go unchecked without his calming corporeal presence.

And because of these brief periods in time, I feel like my submission is second when all I want is for it not to be a number or a place in time. It’s always there, why can’t it just shine through? Why must the barriers and scruples of the world implement their negativities on me? Why must I be two when I fully feel like one?

When we are finally reconnected, my demons are soothed, the façade is slowly replaced and the insecurities fade, as I see myself the way he sees me and I am free. Beneath the surface, I feel the uncertainty threatening to overtake me. I push it down. Threaten it with devotion and pride and it flares back, incensed, not wanting to be extinguished. I know it doesn’t belong here. It should be gone. Why does it still plague me with its lack of compassion and understanding? He is here now. I am his. Don’t you see? My submission has meaning, even if just to me.

Under his restraint and mastery, the insecurities, doubts and the items give a final push to return. Trying to fill my brain with the needless and the unwanted. The lashes bite, eclipsing me in a glow that fills the cracks in my armor. Each caress, bringing me back to him and where I belong, rescuing me from the mundane and the repetition. The chaos clears, leaving behind a smooth undertone, painted white, awaiting the colors of his dominance. As it’s filled with bright greens and yellows, the colors darken and saturate, leaving nothing of the beginning visible at the end. I am free. Today, I know this battle is won. But tomorrow, the war still rages on.

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