To Elohim, pray he
drive out the slayer,
The abhorred slayer, who bears the horns,
Who shrieks wrapped in fire, and haunts mankind,
Make that he turn, yea, fly
Broken winged, to some wind-wasted land, or high
Down the vexed hollow of earth;
Or back to his own shelterless home,
With his: lamias, eidolons, imps, demons, incubi, devils
Anthropomorphic creatures…
Where resides his nocturnal age, that bringeth him
End to end, in his charnel house.
Him, oh Lord, him whose hands beareth lightening
Whose trademark is sepulchral!
O Lord, Elohim, anon, with thy hands, slay and slay—
With thy thunderous voice,
Send them to Lethean, to oblivion—and let their
Ills fall deep into the river of forgetfulness.
#5265/6-7-2016
