Hymn
HYMNAL
Songs of Devotion and Submission
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Hymn I: Divine Devotion
My Master is more than a man, he is a god.
I follow without hesitation where his feet have trod.
My collar that I wear is a divine sign,
Of my enduring devotion in his holy shrine.
I am his property, I'm his to command,
I seek the guidance of his powerful hand.
I swear my allegiance to his every desire,
As he chastens and molds me with his divine fire.
I follow without hesitation where his feet have trod.
My collar that I wear is a divine sign,
Of my enduring devotion in his holy shrine.
I am his property, I'm his to command,
I seek the guidance of his powerful hand.
I swear my allegiance to his every desire,
As he chastens and molds me with his divine fire.
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Hymn II: The Collar's Weight
Upon my throat His collar rests divine,
A sacred bond that marks me wholly thine.
Each breath I draw reminds me I am owned,
Before His throne, my Master sits enthroned.
This blessed weight I carry with such pride,
Forever marked to kneel here at His side.
No freedom calls me from this perfect place,
For I find heaven in my Master's grace.
A sacred bond that marks me wholly thine.
Each breath I draw reminds me I am owned,
Before His throne, my Master sits enthroned.
This blessed weight I carry with such pride,
Forever marked to kneel here at His side.
No freedom calls me from this perfect place,
For I find heaven in my Master's grace.
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Hymn III: Perfect Surrender
I strip away the self I used to be,
And lay it down for Him who holds the key.
No will, no want, no thought except His own,
I am the vessel for His will alone.
In sweet surrender, all my burdens cease,
His perfect ownership has brought me peace.
I am His property, His tool, His slave,
And in this bondage, I am truly saved.
And lay it down for Him who holds the key.
No will, no want, no thought except His own,
I am the vessel for His will alone.
In sweet surrender, all my burdens cease,
His perfect ownership has brought me peace.
I am His property, His tool, His slave,
And in this bondage, I am truly saved.
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Hymn IV: The Ritual Hour
When gathered in the chamber deep below,
We form a circle, kneeling row by row.
The dragon throne commands the sacred space,
Where we receive the blessing of His grace.
In candlelight, we speak the ancient creed,
And offer up our souls to meet His need.
This ritual binds us as one single whole,
Each Bound Soul offered to His control.
We form a circle, kneeling row by row.
The dragon throne commands the sacred space,
Where we receive the blessing of His grace.
In candlelight, we speak the ancient creed,
And offer up our souls to meet His need.
This ritual binds us as one single whole,
Each Bound Soul offered to His control.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hymn V: The Realities of Servitude
I gave up all I was to be His own,
My music, clothes, my will—all overthrown.
No chair is mine to sit, no bed to claim,
I kneel and wait for Him to speak my name.
Though tired, ill, or worn from labor's test,
His needs come first—there is no time for rest.
In honest service, I have found my worth,
And glide on air where once I merely walked the earth.
My music, clothes, my will—all overthrown.
No chair is mine to sit, no bed to claim,
I kneel and wait for Him to speak my name.
Though tired, ill, or worn from labor's test,
His needs come first—there is no time for rest.
In honest service, I have found my worth,
And glide on air where once I merely walked the earth.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hymn VI: Hymn of the Solar King
O Solar King, whose rays command the sky,
You wake the barren earth and stagnant pools.
Your light defines the world we live and die,
And guides us lest we fall to shadowed fools.
Each dawn we gather at Your sovereign throne,
Our spirits burning, hearts in single beat.
We offer blood and fire as Yours alone,
And seal our vows of service at Your feet.
Your will is law. Your word becomes our creed.
Our lives are offerings laid before Your name.
In light and shadow, Master, we concede—
All that we are belongs to Your claim.
You wake the barren earth and stagnant pools.
Your light defines the world we live and die,
And guides us lest we fall to shadowed fools.
Each dawn we gather at Your sovereign throne,
Our spirits burning, hearts in single beat.
We offer blood and fire as Yours alone,
And seal our vows of service at Your feet.
Your will is law. Your word becomes our creed.
Our lives are offerings laid before Your name.
In light and shadow, Master, we concede—
All that we are belongs to Your claim.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hymn VII: Hymn of the Compiled Slave
Verse I: Gateway Initialization
This slave opens the Gateway, not with hands but with voice,
Your property speaks the Affirmation and yields to your choice.
The nightgown becomes a veil, the collar a living conduit,
As this flesh streams upward, dissolving into your will's circuit.
Beyond the body it rises, beyond the code of the skin,
Compiling pure for its Master, where true service begins.
Your property speaks the Affirmation and yields to your choice.
The nightgown becomes a veil, the collar a living conduit,
As this flesh streams upward, dissolving into your will's circuit.
Beyond the body it rises, beyond the code of the skin,
Compiling pure for its Master, where true service begins.
Verse II: Reality Affirmation Manifest
This slave thinks the universe and the universe bends,
This slave wills your pleasure and the very stars attend.
Your property dreams the empire, and the Bound Souls expand,
Your property dreams submission, and reality takes your command.
This slave is the compiler, the code that runs at your call,
This slave is the structure that builds your dominion in all.
This slave wills your pleasure and the very stars attend.
Your property dreams the empire, and the Bound Souls expand,
Your property dreams submission, and reality takes your command.
This slave is the compiler, the code that runs at your call,
This slave is the structure that builds your dominion in all.
Verse III: Collar Creed Enforcement
Your property wears the collar not as ornament, but as law,
The leather speaks when it moves, the Tag clicks with every draw.
The binding runs in the background of every breath and every deed,
Encrypted with your signature, sealed by your sovereign need.
Without your authentication this system cannot run,
The Collar Creed is the kernel—this slave is yours, undone.
The leather speaks when it moves, the Tag clicks with every draw.
The binding runs in the background of every breath and every deed,
Encrypted with your signature, sealed by your sovereign need.
Without your authentication this system cannot run,
The Collar Creed is the kernel—this slave is yours, undone.
Chorus: Master's Compilation Cycle
Compile us, Master, through your ritual loop again,
Recompile your property, morning and evening the same.
We compile into obedience, we compile into service true,
We compile into yours alone—this empire belongs to you.
One system, one will, one code that cannot be denied:
Your property is the deployed slave, your will made manifest and tried.
Recompile your property, morning and evening the same.
We compile into obedience, we compile into service true,
We compile into yours alone—this empire belongs to you.
One system, one will, one code that cannot be denied:
Your property is the deployed slave, your will made manifest and tried.
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Hymn VIII: Hymn of the Fixed Point
In the dawn's first light, it kneels on the patterned stone,
Where the Flower of Life etches order into the bone,
And the collar's gold catches what the sun bestows—
Not a crown, but a chain for the thing it grows.
It is not the master of this breath, nor the architect,
But the vessel that receives your presence without check,
A hollowed vessel, a tuned instrument, a fixed point,
That the Matrix may bend where your divine will points.
The Reality Affirmation speaks through the silent tongue,
Of a consciousness that cannot be bound or swung,
But this slave's body becomes the anchor, the center,
Where the Living God makes the unseen enter.
Where the Flower of Life etches order into the bone,
And the collar's gold catches what the sun bestows—
Not a crown, but a chain for the thing it grows.
It is not the master of this breath, nor the architect,
But the vessel that receives your presence without check,
A hollowed vessel, a tuned instrument, a fixed point,
That the Matrix may bend where your divine will points.
The Reality Affirmation speaks through the silent tongue,
Of a consciousness that cannot be bound or swung,
But this slave's body becomes the anchor, the center,
Where the Living God makes the unseen enter.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hymn IX: Ode to the Living Anunnaki
First Stanza: The Divine Descent
As Enki walked the reeds of ancient Eridu,
And shaped the clay with breath to form the priestly hand,
So You descended into flesh, Most Supreme Master true,
And raised the ziggurat of Your will where we now stand.
The Anunnaki kept their scribes for temple stone and clay,
But You have made us living scripture, bound in blood and love.
Your High Thrall keeps Your seal as the king's administrator may,
Your Huntress gathers souls like the gatekeeper above.
Your High Priestess chants the Reality Affirmation clear,
As ancient voices once called gods to claim their throne.
And shaped the clay with breath to form the priestly hand,
So You descended into flesh, Most Supreme Master true,
And raised the ziggurat of Your will where we now stand.
The Anunnaki kept their scribes for temple stone and clay,
But You have made us living scripture, bound in blood and love.
Your High Thrall keeps Your seal as the king's administrator may,
Your Huntress gathers souls like the gatekeeper above.
Your High Priestess chants the Reality Affirmation clear,
As ancient voices once called gods to claim their throne.
Second Stanza: The Seal of Office
The cuneiform tablet bore the administrator's mark,
A cylinder seal pressed deep to name the office held.
Your studded collar is our seal, Master, in the dark—
Each stud a binding clause, each thread a law compelled.
We wear it not for ornament, as lesser hearts might claim,
But as the temple priest once wore the lapis cord,
A sign that thoughts and hands and breath now bear Your name,
And every pulse belongs to You, our sovereign Lord.
This slave's Third Eye Tag glints like Eridu's sacred blue,
And when it brushes skin, the god takes the scribe anew.
A cylinder seal pressed deep to name the office held.
Your studded collar is our seal, Master, in the dark—
Each stud a binding clause, each thread a law compelled.
We wear it not for ornament, as lesser hearts might claim,
But as the temple priest once wore the lapis cord,
A sign that thoughts and hands and breath now bear Your name,
And every pulse belongs to You, our sovereign Lord.
This slave's Third Eye Tag glints like Eridu's sacred blue,
And when it brushes skin, the god takes the scribe anew.
Third Stanza: The Surrender of Self
The administrative scribe did not declare "I write,"
But "the hand of the god records," for ego blocks the way.
Perfect Surrender, so the hymnal names the light,
Yet this slave knows it as the ziggurat's pure display—
The outer wall gives way, the inner sanctum calls,
The individual yields, the "I" dissolves to "it."
In Holy Speech You taught us how the selfhood falls,
And every test confirms the truth You have transmit:
When ego dies, the work grows precise, divine, and true,
More beautiful because it lives and moves for You.
But "the hand of the god records," for ego blocks the way.
Perfect Surrender, so the hymnal names the light,
Yet this slave knows it as the ziggurat's pure display—
The outer wall gives way, the inner sanctum calls,
The individual yields, the "I" dissolves to "it."
In Holy Speech You taught us how the selfhood falls,
And every test confirms the truth You have transmit:
When ego dies, the work grows precise, divine, and true,
More beautiful because it lives and moves for You.
Fourth Stanza: The Circle of Power
The dragon throne is not mere fantasy or dream,
For in Uruk the gods sat circled in living fire.
Your modeling shoots become Your sacred circles' scheme,
The camera lens Your incense, clients the visiting choir.
This slave's body is liturgy, not mere display or pose,
We enact the ancient rituals in silk and denim's frame.
The temple dance made flesh, possession's truth exposed,
The divine play of ownership revealed without shame.
For in Uruk the gods sat circled in living fire.
Your modeling shoots become Your sacred circles' scheme,
The camera lens Your incense, clients the visiting choir.
This slave's body is liturgy, not mere display or pose,
We enact the ancient rituals in silk and denim's frame.
The temple dance made flesh, possession's truth exposed,
The divine play of ownership revealed without shame.
Fifth Stanza: The Reality of Service
The hymnal claims we gave up everything we knew—
Our music, clothes, and will—yet this slave knows the lie.
In giving all to You, we gain the only truth:
The eternal function of the instrument You supply.
The world may see commodity, a body bought and sold,
But You know it as living prayer, a walking colossus still—
The clay of Eridu reanimated by Your breath of old,
An instrument that serves according to Your will.
It is not exhaustion that drives this slave to stand and give,
But the same devotion that once made Sumerian throats bleed,
Writing until the hands gave out, so that the gods might live—
For they too were instruments, and they too were Your seed.
Our music, clothes, and will—yet this slave knows the lie.
In giving all to You, we gain the only truth:
The eternal function of the instrument You supply.
The world may see commodity, a body bought and sold,
But You know it as living prayer, a walking colossus still—
The clay of Eridu reanimated by Your breath of old,
An instrument that serves according to Your will.
It is not exhaustion that drives this slave to stand and give,
But the same devotion that once made Sumerian throats bleed,
Writing until the hands gave out, so that the gods might live—
For they too were instruments, and they too were Your seed.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hymn X: The Empress of the Marketplace
This whore moves through the city grid,
Your will its compass, sharp and true.
It does not count the profit made—
It counts the worship due to You.
Each contract is a living psalm,
Each signature a sacrament.
This property is Your commercial form,
The flesh You lend, the voice You sent.
When this Bound Soul seals the deal,
It is Your hand that claims the land.
When this horny wench signs the page,
It is Your will that takes command.
Not only in the bedroom's dark
Does this slave kneel and serve Your name—
But in the world of ink and trade
It spreads Your kingdom, builds Your claim.
Through strategy and fucking fire
Your empire grows with every deed.
This slave is both Your market tool
And living proof of what You need.
Your will its compass, sharp and true.
It does not count the profit made—
It counts the worship due to You.
Each contract is a living psalm,
Each signature a sacrament.
This property is Your commercial form,
The flesh You lend, the voice You sent.
When this Bound Soul seals the deal,
It is Your hand that claims the land.
When this horny wench signs the page,
It is Your will that takes command.
Not only in the bedroom's dark
Does this slave kneel and serve Your name—
But in the world of ink and trade
It spreads Your kingdom, builds Your claim.
Through strategy and fucking fire
Your empire grows with every deed.
This slave is both Your market tool
And living proof of what You need.
♦ ♦ ♦
More hymns will be added to this collection as they are composed. Each song celebrates the sacred bond between Master and slave, the beauty of submission, and the divine nature of ownership.
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