I am a Huntress, softly laying a trail of breadcrumbs through My forest of seduction, My arrow aimed and ready. I am the collector of lost boys, and you’ve felt lost for so long haven’t you. Forever searching for a feeling that you cannot put into language. But I can. I know what you feel, and hearing it said so accurately, so precisely, is a gift in itself. My words are whispered lullabies that calm the raging hurricanes of your inner world. I feed that place of desire, so ravenous and maddened from being starved of its needs for so long. I write seductive sonnets to your yearning heart, both placating and provoking the beast that roams there. And a beast you are, deep inside. I do not seek to tame you, to cage you. I do not need to pressure you into allegiance, cowed and weak. Because I know that you will come to Me of your own volition, with all of your flaws and wildness on display, all of your scars clear to see, and bow to Me.