Where does your Pendulum currently swing?
Through what strange currents does it cut?
Can you feel it slicing and whipping the air about your crown,
whilst I watch?
Nearly knighting you, incising each shoulder, ever so slightly,
In ruddy, slightly bloody, rushing reds.
Let me decypher the etches inscribed into your collarbones.
I become the Mystery when I hold the Mysteries in outstretched hands for others to see,
speaking invocations and evocations in wolf howls, silently.
Notice the bizzarchitecture built into streets, hidden hexes of energetic vortexes corralling prancing ponies in immediacy.
Magick of the municipality.
Three goes into ninety three, thirty one times, evenly.
Thirty one is to thirteen as both these numbers are unto three,
in terms of divisibility.
Thirty one is thirteen looking into its own reflection.
As we are both prostrated on knees before the pendulous swing,
suck upon the fingers three which I present unto thee.