View from the Edge

Saturday at 06:42 AM

Written from the precipice, and not from beyond,
Not as one who's crossed already but as one who feels the bond
Between what I have been and what I'm learning I might be,
Between the safety of the shoreline and the uncertainty of the sea.

Standing here at the threshold with a heart both wild and still,
Eager for discovery, for the answer and the thrill
Understanding what these hungers really mean for me,
And which direction is pointing toward my destiny.

This is my confession and an invitation to explore,
To step into the unknown and discover what's in store—
There's a feeling, one like death and birth combined.
Like everything thats been has led to what is meant to find.

There is a path that winds through shadow and also through the light,
It's a journey inward where the self confronts the night,
Where there's whispered hungers, buried deep inside
That rise up to meet you, and leaves nowhere for one to hide.

This is not depravity. Nor is this a disease.
This is the discovery of what brings you to your knees—
Or possibly what makes you the one who holds another down,
The one who wears surrender or the one who wears the crown.

Power!

It's a noun—the thing held or given away,
The currency of intimacy where trust and tension play.
It's a verb—the act of taking, yielding, claiming ground,
The doing and undoing where the truest self is found.
It's an adjective—the quality that colors every touch,
The powerful, the powerless, the craving and the clutch.

Standing before a precipice you didn't know was there,
A question posed in fantacy *** or aching need,
Am I the one who needs to fall, to let another lead?
Or am I the one who holds the reins, and answers in voice and deed?

The answer isn't written on the skin or in the recent past,
It must be lived and tested, then questioned and surpassed.
For those who've never walked this road, the landscape feels unclear—
What was imagined from a distance transforms when its drawn near.

To dominate is not to be the tyrant or the brute,
It's not the thoughtless cruelty or the selfish absolute.
To dominate is to create a space where chaos thrives,
Then to hold the structure steady while another comes alive.

It's empathy wrapped tight in authority's embrace,
And it's reading every signal written on another's face.
Knowing when to push or when to pull them back to shore,
It's carrying the weight of trust that they've never given up before.

Orchestrate their pleasure, their surrender, and their ***,
Play them like an instrument, over and then again.
It's in that ***—in that rush of pure control—
Where one confronts the capacity, and the darkness hiden in a soul.

The parts that thrill, causing sensations sharp and sweet,
The parts that drinks vulnerability like wine beneath ones feet.
And one must integrate these shadows, not as shame but as the truth—
The legitimate expressions of desire known from youth.

To submit is not to be erased, to disappear, nor to fade,
It's not the passive fantasy where decisions are simply made.
To submit is to be active, intentional, and aware,
To give your power consciously, and to lay thyself bare.

It's courage dressed in nakedness, it's strength disguised as weakness,
It's trust extended in the face of vulnerability's bleakness.
It's freedom found in constraint, and in boundaries that define,
It's the quiet in the chaos and peace undefined.

When someone else orchestrates the body and the breath,
Surrender to their guidance in the space they built for you to rest,
Something primal settles, and something tight begins to ease—
In the relief of being held, of being taken, and of being freed

But this requires one confront the hunger and the need,
The parts that craves authority, direction, and the lead.
The parts that feel most alive when claimed, restrained, and possessed,
And to own those needs as valid, not as broken nor distressed.

Many try on both, like trying different coats for size,
Moving between dominance and submission, and learning what applies.
Switches are comfortable on either side of power's flow,
Some lean heavily toward one side but will occasionally let it go.

There is no right or wrong living here, only what is true for you,
Discovered not through thinking but through doing, and by pushing through.

The precipice you're standing on is not a place to fall—
It's recognition of desires that aren't conventional at all.
You're not broken for wanting this, you're not damaged and you're not ill,
You're discovering the architecture of what actually makes you feel.

The path from recognition to embodiment will take time,
From fantasy to conversation, then from the question to the climb.
It requires education—learning safe from reckless play,
Learning boundaries from ***s, A change from night to day.

It means finding others who speak in this particular tongue,
Someone who understands the dynamics and where youre coming from.
It requires patience with oneself as fantasy meets fact,
As you discover your hard limits in the moments or in the act.

It requires courage to ask for what your body truly craves,
To say "I need you to control me" or "I need you to behave."
To risk being fully seen in all your raw desire,
Instead of showing an edited you that someone else requires.

Use discernment in this world you're entering into now—
There are those who'll guide you safely and those who'll show you how
If you lose yourself in ways that aren't consensual or sane,
Predators will use your newness for their selfish gain.

Safe, sane, and consensual—are not just words, but sacred ground,
A framework that makes exploration something more than just profound,
There's a difference between intensity that heals and the harm that scars,
That pushes at the edges and exceeds what you are.

For those who stand at the beginning, at the threshold, or pace by the gate,
Know that what you're feeling is legitimate and you're right on time, not even a single second late.
The need for power dynamics in the way of touch and feel
Is variation, not pathology—it's just another way to heal.

From curiosity to whispered words to tentative first tries,
From fumbling through the mechanics to the moment you arrive
As the embodiment of submissive or dominant
Or something fluid in between that feature are prominent

This isn't a destination where you arrive and then stay still,
It's a landscape to explore, thru valley, peak, and hill.
Discovering new edges, and new expressions of the core
A dynamic that first called to you and made you want for more.

The precipice you stand before is not an ending—it's a start,
An invitation to explore the territories of your very heart,
To find the ones who speak this language, and who understand this need,
Of building experiences that honor both intensity and creed.

Step forward when you're ready. There's no rush, and there's no shame.
Without need to embrace it all just because you know its name.
What you're feeling—in the exchange of power, is a dance—
It is real, and its valid, and its yours to explore when you have the chance.

Parts that when given space to breathe, to exist, and to be expressed,
Might teach you more about yourself than all any usual quest.
Parts that deserve their moment, their place, their right to speak,
Parts that make you powerful will also allow you to be weak.

Or powerful when you claim the strength to answer the call,
To be the structure and the safety, the one who will catch all those who fall.

Power.
Noun. Verb. Adjective. And more—
The thing you hold, the thing you do, the quality that's at your core.
This is the architecture of desire and wild as a summer storm
Not simple, not conventional, but beautiful in its form.

-sdp