Spilled Ink from the Vault

I remember
dry mouth and racing heart
exhilaration and trepidation
knit by determination
to experience for myself
the phenomenon
that was the desideratum of my hiraeth.
Today
the approach is familiar
and no longer needs a map
and despite the intoxication of anticipation
and reason reminding me
this is both fledgling and ephemeral
my pulse calms, my breaths deepen
as I ascend the stairs
and peace descends.
With you
I am able to quash and quieten
the constant cacophony of consciousness.
There is an amniotic tranquility 
to this submission
and these arms are a home and a haven
wherein juxtaposition of past and present is revealing
and when grief would leave me reeling
I focus on the feeling
that this is healing.
The freedom
to embrace all facets
of yearning and desire,
to illuminate primal proclivities
and surrender to them,
and through them, surrender to you
finding liberation in the bindings
of cognitive submission
as you manifest my possession
with marks on my skin.