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by: Sir Wolfr1 A tiny woman, her neck, heart and soul so bare Stood in awe as she watched the Blacksmith craft At a Medevil fair with a gathering of friends Who had they known her true thoughts would have thought her daft. She watched as he stood like a mountain of muscles In his workshop made of steel, fire, smoke and stone And watched as he heated and pounded and tempered the steel And from her lips escaped a soft but unheard moan. This man is indeed a Master of his craft she thought As the steel took on a shape and form before her eyes And she watched as it changed from something common to a thing of rare beauty and strength She thought small wonder with that steel I do sympathize. His craft is not only unlike that of a gifted Dom To take the common and make it valued and rare Thought tis done with violence and fury He works with sweat, fire and love Small wonder I guess that I should stare. The skills he uses are those a Dom would The Dom that one day I hope and pray I shall find One who with violence and passion, power, strength and control I would serve with honor if given a sign. There has been others in the past she knew Those who skill was in word and not in deed Liars and users who held both her and her gift with contempt Neither knowing nor caring what might be her need. The burning she felt in her heart she knew Was as hot as any fire of the Blacksmith's art But this fire threatened to consume her, to engulf her with passion and love If she could but find a man worthy of playing his part. A man who would hold her and control her with strength and with love A man to undertand this way she did feel One who would make her and shape her and then remake her anew As did the Blacksmith with this very steel The Blacksmith looked into her eyes as she watched And seemed to look into her soul as well He saw the passion, the longing, the hidden desires And realized her special form of hell. As her friends called her he removed his shirt to display A vest worn and proud that made her tears unbidden flow On his arm she saw he bore a tatoo of the emblem And once again her heart with hope grew. Just then her friends came and gathered her up Saying that they would be late in returning to work And she started to protest but could not speak Till the Blacksmith shook his head and bid her no. "I hope you ladies will come again" he said "To see my creations of leather and steel I mold them and I craft them and make them whole And those that are broken some say I heal." "My skills are here awaiting your needs" he said to all but spoke to one "You need not worry for I will be here as sure as the evening sun" And as she let her friends pull her away, she looked back one last time To the giant who had spoken to her heart and whose words did her soul define. She smiled as she walked into the gathering darkness, adorned with a soft and knowing smile Each sharing a secret that no other could know No matter what path they would go Each knowing what was offered like two sides of a coin That each the other did make whole. 
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