My body is a temple to a dark and ancient god.
Older than thought, its wisdom carved in my genes by a thousand and a thousand ancestors. It predates me, it will postdate me. It demands worship through cravings, through exhaustion, through pain.
To sate its dark hungers I must move, I must rest. I must feed, I must fast. It craves the stillness of clear water and green things from the earth.
I am high priest of a cult of one. The god calls to me through the crack of my bones, “thou shalt live forever, or die trying.”