Ritual Hour [VII]

The practice before me was something so foreign
Their tempo of chant was that which evoked my adrenaline
The circle they worshipped began it's eruption of colours;
spewing a spectacle of radiance that was a spectrum of some other

The hexagram itself began to shine with an ominous gleam;
All but one vertex was a blaze; what could that mean?
Perhaps, their party of six was too small in number;
To awaken the demon from it's monotonous slumber?

To complete the ensemble of seven must be my own task;
The sprites were fixed in trance; I had no reason to ask
So, I sprang into motion and joined in their ritual dance
Finalizing their sacred rites and granting myself with reverence

The echoes of recitement deluded into something more strange;
One that my mortal ears could do naught but re-arrange
Into a bric-a-brac of non-sense derived from the past
I needed to contribute to the intonement for our progression to last

How could I ululate with the rest in my simple irrelevant language?
I inquired to my friends in hopes of restoring the veracity of my courage
The imp at my front spun his attention to answer my doubts;
For what truly matters is that which exhibits the earnestness of your quotes!

Aha My Brothers! I can now see without my cloudy vacillation;
The next verse I cast shall be the epithet of an immaculate alteration!
I must exalt for my falsifications and this facade of reverendum
These letters fixed in stone are merit-less and de omnibus dubitandum!

There shall be no greater wisdom than the acceptance of that fact
To dwell on the word of man is to dabble in what you've always lacked
Our deficiency of distinctive beliefs and the privledge of identity;
Every truth conceals it's delusion in a seemingly flawless sincerity!

I repeated my genial perspective several times until my breath was gone
The numbness in my torso was then expressed through a rehabilitating yawn
Followed by an out-pour of blood;Spewing from the confines of my lungs
Oh! What a righteous taste this is to speak in the devils' tongue!

For the throes of a sinner are not that of the wicked or holy blaspheme;
They are simply the inverted inquisition of the unanswered question maybe!
The concepts of free will and of good and evil are truly incomprehensible
as our minds are merely aware of relevance; Ignoring the unintelligible

Being enthralled by the dizziness of this new found anaemia;
I commenced to utter the defeatists' call into the absence of elysia
Witnessing no reply I fell to thy knees - cupping the blood I had spilt;
Raising the crimson liquid to thy mouth - consuming the life I'd built!

Which my new fraternal comrades admired with a fixed curiosity;
For I had undeniably turned water to wine and it was merely an impetuosity!
Laughter ensued and the fire of our ceremonial ring blazoned it's approval;
What a way to end an evocation! We had set the scene for our lords' revival!

To state his name for certain would be to use it in vain.
As the out-right ruler of this plane goes by many a name;
And none all the same ; How could a god be labelled as something you say?
If I may conclude in all modesty he is you and he is I. If I may ...