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    Michael Brittingham
    (not a XING member)
    HOPE FOR A NEW MOON
    HOPE FOR A NEW MOON

    It was His words that first caught my eye
    As I lurked, hidden and afraid of my desires.
    Images of dreams, infertile and untaken,
    Stirred soundlessly in my solitude
    Where they’d existed without hope, without form,
    For thousands of sleepless nights as I lay alone.

    Gray phantom figures of a faceless man
    Melded together with strength and compassion.
    He lived in my mind with my submissive self
    Directing, protecting, guiding this unknown woman
    Down foggy erotic paths with no names,
    That forked aimlessly into the black of night.

    I dared to seek one summer night,
    Twenty-four new moons born since then.
    To find some meaning to what moved me
    Deep inside, longing, craving, seizing,
    Screaming to be defined, recognized,
    To finally be given form and shape.

    And I found his words, speaking to me,
    Wisdom tinged with wry amusement,
    Power with gentleness at the very core.
    A sense of calm rode in with the waves
    That took control of my mind
    Washing over me with an unknown sensuality.

    How hungry I suddenly felt,
    As is if not fed for a thousand years.
    I was seized with a virginal desire,
    Untapped, unseen, but growing wet
    From an inexplicable want to be taught,
    To lose the virginity I’d so carefully held

    Safely locked inside for no one to see.

    My hungry fingers plunged for more,
    And I found a face for my faceless image
    That has remained locked inside my mind,
    For these twenty-three new moons
    Heralding new beginnings and hope,
    And one full moon, representing an ending.

    The coup was won when I heard his voice,
    A voice that trained me with its melodic strength,
    For eleven new moons and one full moon.
    A voice that still calms me, wets me,
    Makes me fall into that luxurious wonder
    Of the submission he taught me to feel.

    The passing of the moons phases
    Came and went so quickly.
    How foolish was I to have not basked
    In them instead of fighting tenacious
    Vanilla tentacles that held so fast and deep.
    Causing me to miss my one true desire.

    His ownership of me.

    Twelve new moons have passed since the
    Pain of the full moon that my failure caused.
    I take full responsibility for my inability
    To see the gifts he gave to me.
    But, these new moons have held promise
    As I searched for myself, alone, but never alone.

    For he has never left my side while
    I have searched for the melding of my insides
    Bringing strength and calmness to the fore,
    Unifying the strength of my slaveheart
    With the strength of the outer woman.
    Not owning me, but with the art of a Master,
    Offering guidance and protection as I go alone.

    Another moon will make its presence known soon.
    I pray that it will be a new moon,
    And that I still have hope for a newness,
    For it is hope that casts away the darkness
    And gives me strength to dream of the future.
    I pray he one day finds me worthy once again...

    MB