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this i pray....He sat across from the girl... He sat there and glared at her... He bore into her soul... He thought He had found her... the one who would serve Him til the end... the one who would offer herself to Him... without question... without denying... or so He thought... she was peculiar... as the girls often are... she was diff'rent from the rest, though... she was not one that gave up easily... He didn't know the way to win her... He didn't bother to learn the way... He pushed himself... it was His way... it was the way of His learning... but she didn't give it up... the girl wouldn't give in without first knowing that her trust would be taken comthis i pray....
by ~marilynsalterego
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Tribute to BetrayalA hopeless case they call me, From my place of staring silence, So separate now from the crowds, Of fitting in and defiance.Tribute to Betrayal
For too long they tricked me, To believing what they said, But only so much can be taken, Till bitterness leaves me dead.
Covered by smiling forgivness, The rage for my treatment destroys my confidence, And I become locked in a world, Void of trust and void of sense.
In this existance of appearances, They said join their crowd or die, Then when things got tough their loyalty fell, And I was left to realize that
by ~Twisted-Shadows
Mister Samby ~munkey
without direction...deviantID
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- Favourite movie: Toss up - The Hours and The Secretary
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- Favourite artist: Van Gogh
- Favourite poet or writer: Sylvia Plath
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The artist formerly known as Dave
I drove down by the river. The place that was us. The place but not the time. Where I spent all that would be. I thought that if I could look across to where you sat then somehow that time would live again and I could touch your spirit in the now.
Tonight will be cold.
Tomorrow will be cold. I turn away. the end.
He sat across from her and she was too much for Him. It was impossible to understand her in the time it takes to air an episode of 20/20.
Y/you have missed the point of all this. It is the Master who is enslaved. He is enslaved by the girl. The home stone was empty. He had such hope she they would serve each other.
The floor of the House knows all. It hears all. It remembers the feel of soft steps. It remembers the sound of love. The House remembers in the silence.
Is it the nineteenth hour?
the girl ponders the enslavement by the slave of One that she never possessed and was never possessed by... the girl doesn't understand it at all...
sitting across from the girl does not make the Master the expert of the girl... sitting in the area across from the girl does not make the girl obligated to One... the girl never professed to believe it did... the girl knew then... and the girl knows now that this One... that this Master... that this Gorean... could not be the One for her... she has taken the time... she has pushed the jewel inward... the girl knew then... the girl knows now... that the understanding of her is not possible by mere man... not possible by even They who claim to harbour such desires for the girl... the girl knows...
the girl has not missed the point of any of this... the girl knows that the emails she receives... that every note she receives... that every letter tossed upon the screen... the girl knows that these are spat forth with emotion and desire... but not the emotions and desire the Master would hope... but the girl believes them to be the rantings of a man who has suffered an ego bruise... the girl believes that in NO world... under NO moon... under NO tri moon... is it possible to develop such feelings of deep and trickling desire... not possible without spending time in the girls presence... without spending time in the training... in the corrections... in the praisings of the girl... the girl knows that this thing... this one thing... this deep desire could not be possible...
the girl believes the floor to know all... the woods soak every feeling... every thought... every word... unspoken... the girl knows that only the creaking of the wooden floor can serve as a reminder that though we are each alone in this world... we are not... for as the Master said... the floor knows all..
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