To perform a ritual the sorcerer dons a mask To see through the eyeholes is the magic, for the world outside the mask is not his but belongs to the beast whose skins he wears Two audiences observe: one sees the sorcerer the other the dragon none questions what is plain But to secure his authenticity in both worlds he must live at one time - to fall short means to live in neither A nexus, a bridge hence between what others see and what he cannot A becoming, wild and brutal to unity between man and beast reason and tradition superstition, holiness He takes a deep breath and lets it out forcefully a sense of his own weight lends the stream of air the premonition of terrible things to come With his second breath the world becomes brighter Memories flood - of the great contests of ages forgotten. And rapacious greed returns - the rapture of the precious stone the thrill of chthonic halls the loathing of men The third breath turns to fire One audience laughs and cheers the other trembles in terror praying with hands clenched to the spirits of the oak, the ash and the thorn The trickery of the old druid is magic faithful and true Entertainment in one world but calamity in the other And fire is the liquid that bears passage to grievances and the seething madness of one age to the other - the memory of clan never letting go of injury, always seeking vengeance harbouring ill will in deepest heart And fire is the elixir one drinks to cleanse the soul, the potion of release that boils the spleen and turns the tongue black the sweet nectar of forgiveness and humility and purgatory of perpetual becoming And fire issued forth from the dragon until the whole of the world was set aflame and the face of the Earth lay scorched with even the mighty Yggdrasil burnt to cinders And the many creatures of the heavens rejoiced and cheered and bowed with such reverence before the dragon that their tear-covered cheeks touched the hallowed grounds, their faces becoming covered in the ashes of our iniquity 26-V-2012