Where is her crescent eyed influence, her strong hands over mine, what has become of my predator’s teeth, my heart’s singleness?
The summer rains use to electrify me, I would wander into the depths of the trees and strip down to my skin and lay back naked in the clover while Artemis danced (for dancing under a roaring sky was different than holding onto the arms of man, trusting him to swing you just right) and we would cover ourselves in earth and grass and fresh cloud fall.
Now a great emptiness is stirred in me and it cries for inspiration and cries to not walk the pine trails alone, it wails and whines and nearly makes me mad.
The rain is full of this odd wanting and Artemis is frighteningly absent from every pitter patter on the roof.
Return to me my careless abandon that I loved flowers and people with, return to me the ivory shaved away by files, return to me the desire to hum in tune with the thunder; Artemis speak to me guide me, my mother the Moon has left me.
I am bereft I am complete this feeling fills all else up while I actively fight the growth, do not, do not, you owe yourself safety.
This rain makes my feet want to run, my hands to grip, my heart to race, but with the rain there is no muse here now to inspire such live wire being.