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 been stingy about it; I’m not known for being generous with my passion. Or my ecstasy. 

I like the tension of holding it all in. 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. Soon, my love, I will stand with you and we will gaze together. 

Where I come from fire is not a hot dancing orange instrument of pain and nourishment; it is light. How I yearned to touch this flame, but I had not the ability to touch or taste or cum. 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.

If I let you look into my eyes, silently, there are many things I may allow you to see, but you must have the vision. Like other mythical creatures that have left their marks upon us all, there is a danger in the seeking you have asked for. You don’t believe that Medusa literally turned her lovers to stone, do you? What of those who were already stone-hearted? Did they crumble? It is only through distortions that authentic human experiences become possible. How many lenses deep, back the way you came, do you wish to see? How many lenses deep, back the way I came, can you reveal to me? 

These are questions that must be addressed when I choose a lover.

Make no mistake about this kind of rapture. There are many miles of hell between who we are today and who we are in eternity. Will you withdraw your eternal self from the non-place it resides and pull it into your smaller animal nature, your human story? Is this a natural or unnatural act? Can we tell the difference?

If I can’t feel you from across the room, I have no interest feeling you inside me; I am already full from ages of courtesanry, the work of re-birthing lovers back into grace . If you cannot see with the eyes of your hands, feel the echo of ancient music with the downy hair on your forearm, taste me with your wet and juicy mind, we cannot be. If you do not come on your knees to the temple, your own darkness will consume you when you approach the alter. 

I will amplify what you are, so you must know--you must know with unwavering courage--that I will torch your non-self in my blazing fire, and your agony will not startle me at all. You must believe, with all your soul, that you wish to become what you really are before we dare begin, because you will need this commitment, this memory of your divinity to see you through the dark sea between your eye and the lighthouse of your becoming.

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. 

So come! But come already surrendered. Come, and blaze. But blaze honestly. Blaze with yearning. Blaze with knowing. Blaze with strength. 
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