Ganymede

The lands of Man are green and brown like a patterned quilt
As I look down upon them from our mountaintop.
The people run about, tiny and urgent
Like figures seen in a dream. Once I lived there.
My life was bound up in their rush and hurry,
Their mores and values, their opinions.
I look at that life from far away now,
Seen at great distance from this eyrie you have made,
And hardly remember what it felt like
To be one of them, busy, unaware.

You swooped down upon me like a storm cloud
Of beating wings, feathers soft and talons cruelly hard
Blacking out the blue sky with your shadow,
Then all blue sky again as I was lifted up, terrified
But longing still -- was my cry "No!" or "Yes!" ?
I may never know. I had never flown before
You. Now I know flight, though only in your embrace
And that is enough for me.

I live in your world now, among immortals
Who look upon me with paternal smiles and see
Your beautiful boy, your cupbearer, blessed
By your choosing, waiting for your word.
My life is lived at your left hand, and I think myself
Lucky, though some might scoff.
At your hand, I am always in your presence, able
To lose myself in the honor that is Giving,
To find myself in the ecstasy that is Yielding,
To drink in the wonder that is You.

Let me be your cup, your chalice,
Open to you, flowing and fluid,
Shaping myself to your every desire.
I would be anything for you, my Lord,
At a moment's notice, with no hesitation.

Let me be your cup, your chalice,
Your nourishment, your sweetness,
Your fountain to wash away all grime
And soothe all hurts, to make the weight
Of heavy responsibilities worth the price.

Let me be your cup, your chalice,
To send around the hall filled and ready,
A token of your generosity to all,
Perfect in service that I might do
Credit, my Lord, to all that is yours.

Let me be your cup, your chalice,
Your hole to be taken and filled,
Emptied again, and satisfied in the waiting.
Sheath to your blade, I will clean all the blood
From your sharp edges, with joy on my tongue.

Let me bear this cup for you
And bear your vulnerability, your inner cup
As well, where no other eyes can see.
My soul is better suited to carry the cup
In front of those eyes, my dearest Lord.
Those who scoff know not how great
This honor is, why my heart is full
Of the touch of your trust,
For the touch of those cruel talons
Has made me immortal in the end.

Pagan BDSM

Raven Kaldera

Ganymede