I stretch my arms and enter into this skin, knowing I have a limited amount of time to share my self. A song about circles plays in my ears, women’ voices chanting and making me feel like I’m party to a dark kind of magick I’ve only ever been able to dream of.

The world is alive and bright, though there are clouds in the sky and the ground is wet. The forest was so dark and frightening today, but I was so glad to be there. It made me think things about shadows and fear.

I’m working on a new story, a new book. It’s going to be amazing. Right now, it’s just circling in my head, like the chant I have on repeat. A circle within a circle, with no beginning and no ending. It’s going to be a great book.

I wait for the world to wake to me, to be my sunrise and spread red across my horizons. Red and black. That’s what pleases me. I have to disappear out of this skin and become something else hardier and more sturdy for the world that is coming. I have little obligations. Tiny ones compared to what I want to do when I am dark and delicious like chocolate, the type of chocolate that’s good for you.

When I return, the world will spill its guts for me. I know it. I’ll lap it up and taste something prophetic. Make something creative. Set the world on fire like I’m told to do by my instincts and libido. It will all be well, then.

I will return.