Ah Shi Sle Pah

SAMHAIN

The medicine dose — even by my usual reckless standards — is large.

Under the relentless stare of the Serpent i descend: a slow, painful death from a chironic wound that will not let me break through. Attempting alchemical transmutation i break down the body's structure into serpent pulp. Still not. It takes repeated shamanic harakiris to finally let the Eagle fly, Serpent in its beak, toward some glimpses of the Light.

Deep in the recess of my sleeping bag, i have hardly looked at the unfolding full moon magic surrounding me.

It is late morning. The exhausting ordeal over, i emerge a living corpse.

Samhain — festival of darkness indeed!