The old monk of a somewhat Thelemite, or "crow"-related order,
dressed in a torn, old gown of jute,
had been locked up in a tiny box inside a wall,
this cubic room was painted in dark(est)-red and midnight-blue.
When the door was opened again,
he was screaming terribly,
as towards the end of his self-imposed isolation
he must have suffered from the most horrible visions and/or hallucinations,
presumably, they had been caused by the previous days of his ritual fasting.
The images he saw must have been atrocious indeed.
The white-haired, bearded monk was in his forties I believe ...-
that's 4 and 0 for the earthen sphere.
Do not make stupid jokes about the old man in the grey gown of jute,
because what might look like a clichè is necessity ... and truth!!!
After he was released again
a trans-/bisexual vampyre-demon was crawling after him out of the same box.
Though this demon/creature should have been dissolved,
instead ha had just split himself in two halves,
dark-red, fat and swollen like a leech ...-
it surely must have been feasting on the poor man
while they were both locked inside the wall.
A ritual:
(I become a witness of an unexpected ritual, a demonstration.)
On the right side of me:
a magician hissingly exhales,
directing his breath on a spongy, spherical thing;
a plexus which, as a direct reaction to it,
is covered by thin, electric flashes,
or discharges of blue light.
Unexpectedly, my hands are beginning to twitch and flash as well,
and I have to realise that I am still dirty & soiled,
possessed by certain things un(dis)solved,
as it is they who now react to the formula of exorcism!
In awe and terror I recognise
that such rituals of power, invocations of archetypes
must only be performed by the truly initiated,
experienced magicians all alone.
Not by some superficial silly loser/boy-girl,
a mere artist of hot (test)-air ...
Do not make stupid jokes about the old
