Rapture

I find my freedom when I finally kneel,
Acknowledging the presence of my king.
You wear your authority like a thread of silver,
A heavy weight that’s stronger than a chain.
You do not have to force me now to yield;
I’ve walked into this darkness to be lost.

The world outside is noisy, cold, and lost,
But here, I find a purpose as I kneel.
I watch the way your iron will won’t yield,
Mapping the gravity of a shadow king.
Every word you whisper is a golden chain,
A glint of lightning through a fog of silver.

Your touch is cool and sharp, a blade of silver,
Reminding me of everything I’ve lost.
I’m bound to you by more than just a chain,
By the holy impulse that commands I kneel.
I seek the silence of a nameless king,
And pray for the endurance not to yield.

But there is a secret power when I yield,
A transformation into molten silver.
I am the secret mirror of my king,
Finding the parts of me that were once lost.
I am a temple built so you can kneel,
And find the strength to forge a stronger chain.

We are both prisoners of this heavy chain,
Tied to the moment where the senses yield.
I watch the pride go gray as you finally kneel,
Tarnishing the brilliance of your silver.
In the exchange, our identities are lost,
Until I cannot tell the servant from the king.

You are my master and my fallen king,
The one who holds the key to every chain.
I am the wilderness where you are lost,
The fertile ground that teaches you to yield.
We are twin reflections made of polished silver,
Waiting for the dawn to make us kneel.

Beyond the chain, the spirit learns to yield.
In shadows of silver, I find my king;
I’ll ever kneel, and never more be lost.