Ode To You, Master

A meditation on power, surrender, and the sacredness of chosen trust.

At the center of dominion, a different strength takes root,
where command is not imposed, but granted—
where restraint becomes a practice of care
and authority begins not with force,
but with the quiet act of perceiving.

Yours is not a rule of domination,
but a sovereignty of discernment:
a power shaped by presence,
a strength tempered by softness.

You are the architect of the space
that witnesses my surrender,
the calm I enter when the world overwhelms.
You hold it like Atlas once held the heavens—
but not as punishment.
You do it by choice.
You shoulder not to endure,
but to hoist a cosmos just vast enough
for two constellations to orbit one another
in a sky no one else can enter.

Every fiber of your being reveals
that true mastery is not what you do to me,
but how much of yourself you must know
to make room for the gift of my obedience.

I give myself not because I must,
but because you ask with a gaze that sees everything—
and harms nothing.

This is the power I bow to.
This is the man I call Master.