They were beautiful and pagan in the clearing. A sharp wind made the tops of the trees sing and the darkness was delicious and safe. And she was there, mother nature her self, howling up to the moon and invoking that sharp pain. That sharp pain you get when you look up at the impossible black of the sky and wonder how the stars got there. The wonderful ache you get when you press your cheek to the bark of a tree and hear, deep in the roots, the heart beat of the earth.
Run with me, run with me, run with me.
Run with me, feet pounding, no breath.
Let the branches whip your arms and know you will feel no pain
Let the wind of your passing stir the leaves
Be the way I meant you to be
dangerous and primal and free
Wolf baying, leopard screaming, bird calling
run with me run with me run with me