CHAPTER 37

A flame appeared over Michael's head as he sat in meditation. Michael felt its warmth. Its light cast him in an eggshell of light. Then the flame moved down in front of him.

"You must destroy the altar," spoke a voice from the flame.

"Why," Michael asked.

"You are placing your power outside of yourself. Instead of going within, you are looking outside of yourself for redemption, for salvation, for someone to help you. You understand but you fear what you know."

"I put a lot of effort into this altar."

"What about putting effort into yourself. You can't heal anyone if you can't heal yourself. Putting the power outside yourself, is giving power, and access to you being manipulated."

"Gee, it seems no matter where I turn, someone is waiting to tip and dip in my mind."

"Your world teaches you to live in fear, in denial, and then you deny your own authority. The power that sleeps within you could destroy a universe. Why do you think many beings want to keep humans in ignorance of their true divine nature? Many of you think you are fallen creations, damned in the eyes of Prime Creator. Many have fragmented their soul because they have placed their authority outside themselves. Many have given up their power because they believe that if someone appears before you they are greater than you. You have no idea the game that is being played to keep the human soul in ‘the game' so entities can feed off them and maintain an existence. If you place power outside yourself, then you are denying your true being."

"Michael said nothing for a few moments. In a quiet voice he asked, "So how does one destroy their monster."

The flame begins to fade. "You are the answers to your questions."

The flame disappeared. Michael sighed and stood up. He looked at the altar. "Oh well, one shouldn't fight change."

A wind blew through the room and a chill course through his body. He heard thundering in his head.

Dark voices rose from the carpet. In his mind, it felt like gnarly vines were crawling across the floor. A smell of decaying flesh singed his nose. He gasped for fresh air. An image of the abyss surfaced. He sensed a garden within the abyss. There was a sense of things snaking around him and hands reaching for him. What was the source of this phantasmagoria?

He picked up the scroll of life he placed on the altar. He had become a Buddhist in Los Angeles. Several weeks later, he decided this was not what he wanted. Something in him was still missing, he still felt empty. A Buddhist acquaintance accused him of neglecting the teachings so this caused a friend of his to come down with AIDS. Another Buddhist friend said that he could not be his friend if he left the group. They would gather together to chant, yet everyone was preoccupied with achieving material things. He didn't feel these were the true teachings of the Buddha so he withdrew from the group and was shunned by them. Though they asked him to return the scroll of life, he kept it.

Michael took the scroll of life off the altar, cut it in have and breathed the energy that was emanating from it back into him self. He then took the picture of the Gatekeeper and burned it and inhaled the smoke. He took the flowers, boiled them in water and poured the cool mixture over his naked body. He took the chalice, broke it with a hammer and in his mind's eye, he saw bolts of lightning flashed from it, striking his heart. He staggered. He continue taking items off the altar, breaking them in half, cutting them in pieces, and inhaling the energy that came out of each object that he had projected prayers and meditations into. He hadn't realized how much power was placed outside of self. He then moved the physical structure from its original spot. Standing still in that spot, he uttered a spell that pulled this power point back into self. The spell created a vortex of energy surrounding him until he consumed it. Michael felt himself spinning within. Voices seemed to pour in him, out of him from every direction.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt an intense pain from the pit of his stomach as he doubled over. To the naked eye it would seemed as spittle was coming from the corner of his mouth. For him, it seemed like a dark dirty orange liquid poured out of his mouth. He saw wounds opening on his arm, on his feet, on his thighs and this same liquid poured from each wound.

Thousands of voice filled the room as Michael sat on his knees, as wounds appeared over his body weeping a dirty orange liquid.

"Michael, the Temple is being invaded. They are over running us. There are too many."

"What can I do," he thought when even my body is no longer mine to command.

His face had become more feminine in features with slanted eyes and were glowing a white light. "The astral plane is falling. Demons walk the streets of New York feeding off people's negative energy. The Dragon has ascended to Heaven. Other worlds are merging with this reality. Gaia has fled this world. The ancient gods want me as their harlot. My powers are becoming separate entities. There is no love for me in this world of demons. My Father is so far from me!"

"You must become an Uthra!"

"Uthra rise!" The voices were fading.