And sometimes, one’s Kink is to not want to see noise, to not want to hear the clutter of all that is not love.

To find a stillness in the leadership of another who has proven themselves capable of staring any threat straight in the eyes with such calm to render it paralyzed with fear. A fear incapable of measuring the power and strength present that makes such a calm peace possible.

In that containment of stillness to bow down into a trust built over time, a consistency of flowing love, in the surrender to that love, as an invitation to receive more of it. In that surrender as a vessel, opening itself wider, a stretching, a jaw locked gaping funnel for love, like molten metal to pour into. A gaging chocking, coughing blind surrender to all that is love.

To feel the burning of it, to be cast into a new form by it. To become the very force and fire of love like a flame that dances up into the ether to become nothing, leaving a residue that can only be defined as inspiration.

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