Feeding on the Eternal Cure for Lycanthrope

I find myself succumbing to the lycanthrope more and more lately. What is it about the blood of others that I find so intoxicating?

My son is the biggest victim of my rage. Is it that his emerging manhood threatens me? I wish I fully understood. But it seems the slightest things he does lately bring out the beast within me. Yesterday he bit his sister after the two of them manifested their bestial natures and attacked one another and he was foolish enough to do this in front of me. But did I turn to the "Wellspring of Life" for sustenance and strength to resist my own transformation? Of course not. Before I had hardly considered my own behavior, the degeneration was complete and I was pouncing upon him. I scared myself for one instant when my claws found their mark horrifyingly close to his left eye and I thrust him from me before my tongue found its satisfaction in the blood that was drawn. My own flesh and blood. Why can I not remember in those moments of passion that my wolf form is never the answer? I cannot teach my children to forsake bloodletting when I constantly model it for them.

The only shred of hope I find in this situation was the quickness of my recovery. I am getting better at realizing my mistake and willing myself to change back sooner than I used to. My son slinked off with his tail between his legs and my daughter instantly reverted to express concern for him and for my violence. That helped me to snap out of it. And when he returned a few minutes later, I asked his forgiveness.

Oh the sweet balm of forgiveness, not only from the King, but from those you have offended. Instantly my son's form changed from a slinking, wounded were-creature to a handsome young man. In that instant of divine healing between family members, both of us shone with the radiance of human flesh. My son is a great young man and I am never more proud of him than when he shows the glory of the King in his demeanor. I'm sure he would say the same of me. Oh that we were not born into this bestial nature. And yet that is no excuse for we are twice-born. If we would but feed on the "Source of life" rather than each other, we could put off this hairy hide forever.

The realization brings with it a fresh hunger for purer blood. I must shut myself away from family for some time alone with my Lord. He beckons me to feed and I know it shall be sweet. Even now, he is at the door, knocking and calling to me. "Come and be filled. Eat my flesh and drink my blood and you will find true life."

"Cure me, great Lord! I come to you!"

As I enter his presence, the light of his being illuminates the darkness around me and I realize how many dark creatures lurk in my carnal world, even in my own home. I am disgusted by the truth of my own weakness as I realize that I have allowed these cruel minions of hell into my life. A golden calf is most noticeable, brazen in it's prominence. It's form changes constantly, all of them attractive to me and glowing with an eerie dark glory that attempts to overshadow the glory of my Lord. But now his presence has been invited in and as I lift my voice to sing of his wonders, I see the Golden Calf revealed for what it is, a slinking demonic entity that flees the room... for now at least. (Is that an admittance of failure for the future?) I look down and realize I still have a chain on my ankle whose other end trails after the demon. Oh Lord, break this heavy chain!

I worship louder and notice a familiar goblin cower away followed by several grims. My burdens lift as the grims flee and my desire to attack my children becomes less with the goblin gone. The longer I remain in the King's presence, the more is revealed and though I am relieved, I also grieve at my condition. For the King gave the life of his firstborn son that I should be free of the influence of these hell-spawn, yet I allow them to hold sway over me. Soon, a Cave Troll is discovered hiding in my closet. Though not a strong specimen, still his desire to possess the belongings of others has rubbed off on me and I renounce it as I continue to bathe in my Lord's presence. And the King never shows mercy to dark creatures who dare to threaten his subjects. Taking the cave troll by the throat, He casts it from my home! One down, and I feel it's hold on me shattered!

Oh the blood of the only pure Prince of Peace, Joy and Life! As the fangs of the enemy are dislodged from my soul, my own life ceases to drain from me, vitality is restored and I am able to feed once more. The master opens his veins to me, and how holy the sacrificial act, as his life drains that mine might fill... and yet He is never diminished by the giving. For such is his paradoxical nature, that in giving he is never exhausted, in shedding his eternal blood, yet eternity never drains from him who is the source of true life.

Werewolf in a Vampire World.

There are some who say we give too much credit to spiritual bogeymen, but I have seen the spiritual world and know that we humans are guilty of just the opposite, especially in this "civilized" culture. In fact, I still see the things of the spirit as though they were physical creatures and it is not a pretty sight. Everywhere one looks there are demonic manifestations sucking life from us. Oh, vampires are real. They are the dead, the spiritually dead. I cannot look at the lost without seeing the death of their spirits tainting their beauty and poisoning their selfish existences. How they feed upon one another, sucking life from one another, feeding themselves on the poisoned life-blood of others suffering from the same lack of life. And whenever possible they will feed off of the living as well. The saddest thing is that those who are spiritually alive allow it. We are not much better in our existence than the dead in too many cases, feeding off of one another, wounding and maiming one another, attacking the lifeless corpses around us, rather than bringing them the cure they so desperately.

Lycanthrope plagues the living, corrupting the lives of those who should be pure and full of power. The power we choose to draw from too often originates from the natural condition that plagues us, and we wallow in the bestial nature of the lifeless around us. And I am one of them. A werewolf who struggles with my sinful nature, too often roaming the world in the form of a brute beast craving pleasure and blood. I feast daily, lapping up the blood from wounds I've inflicted, often on those closest to me. Only later, after nearly gutting them, do I come to my senses, transform back to my higher state of being and attempt to repair that which I have ravaged.
Oh God, deliver me from this animalistic state that has no attractiveness to the dead. Why should they give up their blood-sucking lifestyle when the living exist the same way?
And then there are the Dark Creatures that enslave so many. Vampires, for all their vaunted power, are powerless, slaves to the Trolls, Goblins, and other creatures of hell that more and more brazenly walk in the open, weaving enchantments like chains. Oh how they entice both the living and the dead, minions of the dragon and his spawn. Their numbers sicken me, and yet, I too find myself drawn to what they offer, too often supporting their foul agenda to destroy all of mankind eternally.
I don't support that idea specifically but I am guilty of forgetting that the pursuits of my life, laid out by these damnable beings, bear consequences that feed the frenzy of bloodletting.
Right now I am struggling to take hold of life. I have been seeking the Lifebringer, that I might feed upon his flesh as He commanded, and gain pure untainted life. To feed on others is a living death, even for the living. It sickens and only barely sustains. We take on the life of those we feed on and none but the living God offers pure life.
The problem is that we must come to him in human form requesting his life which he freely offers but never surrenders. And for me, to throw off the beast, to renounce the sinful cravings of this dark world, proves to be a test most sorely passed. His life tastes so sweet and satisfying when I feed upon it, yet the bitter-sweet taste of forbidden blood ever lingers on my tongue. How do I forsake it fully and find the cure for my lycanthrope?