Greetings,

I love the scent of the night after a light rain, and the shine of the moon over still waters.  The night calls to me with a siren's song that pulls at the root of my soul, telling me that I have walked this earth for many a lifetime.  The woods are part of my soul, the startled deer as it rushes away, the rythmic pattern of my padded feet through the underbrush...

The sharp metallic heat of blood on my tongue!  

Yes, these things are a part of me, and without them I am not but the whisp of a dream.  The march of humanity has stained the soil of this land with a taint so foul it will take aeons to wash from the soil and stone.  the wind carries the scent of man and his rapine of all the natural world.  The endless cadence of life and death has now made me the flesh of that which I despise, and so I claw at my mortal cage in anguish!

Release me!

No...?  Very well, then if I cannot call to the moon and the darkness with a voice of rage and lust... then I must write!