Bound

From the cold, the dark, the lonely,
It takes not much more than a look cast,
A lingering gaze that seems to physically touch.
That touch, invisible,
It reaches inside,
It entwines itself about the steady beating of heart.
It knots there, that unseen cord from man to slave.

The steel of collar placed about the throat,
A token made warm by the very life owned.
It, as the slave herself,
One cold without the other, neither living up to their purpose.
The collar without a throat,
A slave without the collar,
Either lost.

Though precious, though visible,
The collar of steel is less strong,
Less permanent than that invisible binding,
The cord that feels each pulse,
Her heart beats for him

 

Written by TS Sala TS

with permission from Trace Storm