Sometimes, when I write, it’s like rubbing myself to ecstasy. I keep it, mostly in my body, where it can roll and plunge and climax and scream. I’ve not been stingy about it; I’m known for being generous with my passion and art. Or my ecstasy. I like the tension of holding it all out. I like feeling taut like a guitar string stretched one turn short of snapping. When your meaty fingertips glide past me sideways, I use it to make rolling melodies that glide down the neck of my instrument; I catch it in my belly, savor it for the long nights of all our souls. I’ll digest this vibration, again and again, until it becomes a part of the music of my spirit, expressed in my breath.

I created myself from a star on the other side of the sun. You created yourself from the lava, the lightning, the cold rains captured by the oceans of the Earth. You gazed up at me a million years ago, with wonder and awe. I saw you so clearly, the elemental glow of you encased in miraculous flesh with distinctive form. I thought soon, my love, I would stand with you and we would gaze together, but it was just my reveries.

Where I come from, there is fire blazing wild dancing light, and it made me a body. I was the burning; I could not feel the burning. What kind of person, you might ask, would want to burn? Gaze into me, and I will show you.

I am not a place that you can conquer. I contain everything I have ever been, and all that I will ever become. I am a dark goddess, forged in the deep fires at the heart of the world, and I am not a place for the weak or the lost… ❤