Act 1 - Paradiso I awoke in paradise, to an affront of angel's three, as they looked up me and said, Dante Dante we beseech thee! What in heaven's name is wrong i wonder, what ever could they disturb my slumber. The lower vestiges are in chaos, the sinner's lament of our decree! We cannot maintain order in the inferno, as Lucifer has left his post. I ponder for a moment, lost in thought as i consider my options, what if i were to return there, would that be apt at most? The spoke in hushed tones for quite a time, then looked back, as if in a dismissive tone, we believe it may be needed as we lack, the ability to travel down to the frozen shores, and beyond the 9 circles, so you may have to wander back, through to the icy cauldron but maintain slack, as your journey will be long and hard fought, and your betrothed will still be waiting, in this place most high, for she cannot leave this place without the authority which we lack. Act 2 - Purgatorio I make my way hurriedly past St Peter, paying the toll at the gate, for travelling henceforth down back into the depths of the abyss, i did not believe i would ever have to do this but i need to sate, my rampant curiosity at least as what has happened which i miss? I make my way down the golden bridge, past the clouded facets, and beyond the winged city, down to purgatorio where the first, of the sinners i shall meet who pay, penance of their tacets, as in life so in death they must pay, they toll in order to enter, the gate of heaven if so they desire, or else rot in their earthly pyre, as i travel past the ghouls and robbers, grifters and vagabonds to whether, the infernal place of which i had long, since been removed from so long ago. Act 3 - Inferno 9 C32-C34 I make my way down that secret path aloft of angels wings, carrying the wishes of those on high, their silent serenade carrying sweet whispers, of my Beatrice aloft as i wonder aloud of her lies, her cruel deceptions that led me here, only sweetened the deal as that is why i fell for her ties, as my betrothed was oft, windswept and forlorn, as the winds of change were often so fickle but wise. Towards Ptolomea i transpose myself upon those who've betrayed others, under the semblance of kindness, as i remember once being informed, of one such soul who utter contrivance, was in their lack of mindedness, towards others of their kin, and they oft would skin their own, to save their own skin, aloft i carried, this burden so heavy of mine, i must carry forward, towards the transept, past the circle of the nine. The second of these was such a place, as cold and derelict as the last, as i make my way quickly through, noting the inhabitants, as i enter the Caina, the ninth circle true, the entrance of which i seek passage, as i must exit through, in order to reach the circle eight, as i must obfuscate, myself of these burdens five.
The first of three now which i see, i bear witness to more of the morally abject, the poets of which there are, rounds of four, one incised within the other, and containing many traitors, but at present it only shows greater, sized giants amongst these stationed in this canto, as i progress forward beyond Antaeus's gaze, the circle of the eight. Act 4 - Inferno 8 C18-C31 I make my beyond the frozen gulf into the circle of eight, where impostors of all kinds purport to be here, who have counterfeited the names of others their whole lives, not are scarred by that pretence as they fear, the shallow cauldron that lies before them so close, yet so far from the hidden vestiges of paradise i hear, as i make my way past Sinon of Troy, and Adamo Of Brescia, still in mutual reproach, out of the flock i tear. As i travel deep beyond the reaches of those fowl frozen wastes, i see Virgil in the distance as i look upon, the destitute and the numbed souls, that sit among the rank of sinners, as they cross between the gulf torn, between life and death, some still clinging to hope, trying to find a way out this forsaken place, but it's forlorn, as there words are met with empty gestures, as Virgil merely looks on, with a cold impassive gaze as i forever morn, those who have become entrenched, in their beliefs, that they now suffer amongst the ranks of the husks which are borne. I make my way across the bridge, into the ninth gulf, the crowds are thinning here, as i make my way back up to the truly, abhorrent levels of inferno, the foul stench already filling my nostrils, like that of some corrupt vestige of purely, disgusting detritus brought upon by the wastes, of fetid human suffering, as i carry onwards to the aptly named folly. I make my way back down towards the seventh gulf, through the arch that stretches to the eighth, and i now witness, a darting of flames numberless wherein are those punished by counsellor, each containing a sinner, except a litmus, as one in which were Diomede and Ulysses, which relate to the manner of their death, unfortunate as it may be sinless. The serpents seize upon the sacrilegious Fucci as he vents his fury in blasphemy, still cursing his dreaded mount, he is pursued by Cacus as he flies in the form of a Centaur, with a swarm of serpents on his haunch as i account, and a dragon on his shoulders breathing forth fire, as i pursue the spirits of three of countryman as i recount. With laboured strides i make my deeper, as i make my way back into the seventh gulf, as i see the robbers in torment, by serpents of many forms, their anguished screams lament, my soul to this very day, as i continue onward, towards frond. As i spy the soul Vanni Funnci, whom had pillage the sacristy St James in Pistola, predicting certain calamities over mond. I encounter demon's, vile creature's their rage not ebbing as i venture deeper, i forgot the trials of this tincture, as i almost feel like i may rupture my spleen, their sharp forks poking into my flesh, as i journey through this juncture. Upon reaching the sixth gulf, i behold the punishments of the hypocrites, to pace continually around the gulf with puncture, as their heels bleed, that are guilt ridden on the outside, but are leaden within, as i continue on with my profuncture.
I am still in the circle eight, as i bear the name Malebolge aloft of my brow, i look down upon the barter's and spectator's, as i journey forward to the mound, as those who have sinned here are plunged into a lake of boiling pitch an sectator, damned to follow this infernal ritual of pain, guarded by demon's, as Virgil presents passage affording me an escaper. I share empathy to those whose plight i have felt, as i travel the vestiges of these realms, in a way predicting events aloft, as the presumed guilt of those who have settled upon this place, have been bound upon tresses as they are unfurled and scoffed, at as if they were subhuman heavens, although the spectator's are just as guilty, to presume they are not at fault of wrath. I come to the third gulf, returned once again to the place of devil's rest, wherein are punished for simony, as are incited, bound to this place as their bones are reined with red lesions, there bodies bruised and battered, as the torturer's are excited, the sickening sadistic pleasure by which these hell fiends, inflict these punishments makes me feel sick, as I'm soon repatriated. I now reach the edge of the circle of eight, as i see the edge of this hell riven place, i grow exhausted as of late, the depths of this depravity is driven to my core, as i feel riven with madness, i must carry on or else i will belate, my task in order to find the acrimony of Lucifer, as i journey beyond the faults, and find the faults of the eight. Act 5 - Inferno 7 C12-17 I saw a beast ahead of me, the monster Geryon to whom Virgil, is speaking to allow passage through the circle of seven, as i travel deeper back into the depths of this forbidden place, a paradise of moral abandonment, a reverse of heaven, i try not to desecrate the bodies of those who lay here, unable to assume an upright pose, as their bodies are leaden, with the weight of their sins, both morally and physically, i carefully peruse the gallery of souls towards the beacon. I travel west along the pier, past the artists and now to the house of poets, as the circle of eight falls out of view, i move down further still, towards the lesser of the sinners as two poets muse, crossing the sand as they retreat from view, i do not have time to stop, as i already did once on this journey, for i must continue forth, i must not tarry as it is due. I make my way past mounds both horrible and grey, putrid husks of what could only be described, as the worst of man's violations, as above so below as the saying goes, i wander swiftly beyond yonder shores, as the grey mist clears, i am met not by salutations, but by vitriol as the confused souls, wonder why i go back with way, the spirits bound to this place are of different intentions. I reach the third of seven of which they have been divided, the souls torn between these walls, are loftier but still trying, as they try to maintain some oft degree of sanity.
It's undue remorse from the pain they must suffer, as the daily crying, but wear at their souls, as the agony is endless as the circles carry on without end, as i alley my fears amongst trying, times as i feel my very soul being torn, from betwixt my spine, as the folly of this journey begins to grip my mind allying. I make my way down with greater fervour now, as i eye the precipice of the circle of six, as betwixt thine eyes i spy, a compartment that contains those who committed violence against themselves, of violently consumed of themselves in a lie, they trapped themselves unable to commit to the truth, and thus became destitute forever entrapped in the fate of this sty,bereft of the worst intentions, they have now committed to consumeth their mass for all eternity, unless their oft is sly. I reach the entrance to the circle of seven, as where the violent are punished, for their deliberate hedonistic butchery, it's entrance is guarded by a large Minotaur, approximately seven feet in stature, as i witness such violent debauchery, i can only oft but imagine, what ill consumed will of the flesh, these patron's of the night, would be remiss to lechery. Act 6 - Inferno 6 C10-11 I make my way out of the precipice which encloses the circle of seven, as i see the sepulchre of Anashtasius the heretic, behind the lid I'm able to make out the smell of the pyre, steamed upward from the abyss, as I'm continue onward anaemic, as the smog clouds my visions, and the smell leaves me gasping for air, oh where is the fresco of the angels I'm bulimic. I make my way through that dreadful place, as quickly as i can muster, as the smell lingers for a morn or two as I'm aloft, looking upon the fiery tombs of my comrades, whom i had discourse here previously, they still wait for their judgement bereft, of their temptation to speak, i must continue onwards, for my journey is long and hard fought, as my exile's still left. Act 7 - Inferno 5 C8-9 I make my way towards the circle of five as i struggle upwards, the journey is much more hard fought, as i still yet wretch at the bitter taste in the back of my throat, the decay of the souls which are wrought, from their caskets of eternal damnation, their howls can be heard from the abyss, as a warning to those who sought, those earthly carnal pleasures, that if they seek that which they lust for in life, they will have what they wrought. The city of Dis a sinner's paradise in some corrupted fashion, as i study the walls, and all the strange markings, i wonder back to when i was still yet alive, and what i would have done, had i known of this place, what harkening's, would i have i brought with such knowledge, to the people of Florence, having such knowledge,
oh they be darkening, their faces lit by the burdens i faced, they would finally understand the horrors of the mind, and what they're pardoning. As we reach the circle of four, we thank the ferryman for our crossing, as we wander onward towards the black starlit, as the eyes of those who venture here are hollow and empty, like the souls of those who fell without meaning without a fit, they wandered without hope, and didn't have anywhere to go when they died, so they're burdens led them to this place of grit, a noiseless place which is mostly empty, free from the barren conjecture of the previous circles, as i draw to the eye of the pit. Act 8 - Inferno 4 C7 I ascend onward through the circle of four, as i reach the precipice almost seeing light as i reach past the darkened fort, i see Plutus ahead of me, the reverse of where i stood whence i came to this place former, the prodigal and avarice resort, to feudal rivalry here, as this becomes their place of rest, as they roll great weight against each other in a primal retort, as Virgil shows me once again the vail of goods, that are committed into the charge of fortune as it as if an unseen court, weighs the sins of those who dwell here, placing in each of their relative plains, even the most wisened among them purport. Act 9 - Inferno 3 C6 I next find myself in the circle of three, where I'm a mire of the gluttonous who are punished here, their torment is lie in the mire, under a continuous storm hail, snow, and foul water as no austere, presumption can be heard, over the sound of Cerberus barking, with his threefold mouth alit fangs alier, one i recognised as Ciacco the former from earth, as i seen on my down here henceforth as i shall bare, as i wander through hoping for the silence, that follows this agape bellowing, of an angered mighty glare. Act 10 - Inferno 2 C5 I round the edge of the circle of two, as i journey onwards, past the precipice of the nine as it reaches aloft, I never thought that beholding Minos the Infernal Judge, would be such a blessing as it is now, as it means I'm oft, nearly complete as my journey's end is at hand, the carnal sinners who are tossed about in the dark are dancing aloft, a tempestuous breeze amongst furious winds, unable to stop the torment, of their carnal desires, as move towards the croft. Act 11 - Inferno 1 C4 I've now reached the precipice as I'm greeted by a clap of thunder, as my guide assists me up the steep slope, i have not often gazed upon, this place with such marvel as i do now, as i hope that i make one last journey to elope, with my beloved Beatrice once more, then be love with this infernal place forever more, as i find the souls who have scope, not for the cardinal sins, but through lack of baptism, have found their way here, by way of happenstance and lost the hope, of being given the opportunity to seize their place in paradise, it is not fair but life is not just as i make my way up the slope.
Act 12 - Beyond Inferno C1-3 I find myself at the gates of hell, the pitch black structure staring ominously, as i wonder how do i go back through these gates, without breaching my anonymity, i must do however what must need to be done, as we both push through the temptuously, hung fruits of my labour are just within my reach, if only we can somehow breach, this gate of fire and bone, maybe i can once again bear witness, to a place i called home. Virgil guided me onward, through a forest filled with beasts of all manner, i did not have a weapon with which to protect myself, not even a hammer, as we made our way carefully through those dark foreboding woods, the manner, by which we came to the clearing was suspect at best, and was a clamour, at worst as we barely breached the clearing between the trees i saw a manner, of a man i could barely make his form, but it was not human for it was a glamour, my eye's did not deceive me, the man had horn's concealed by magic of a manner, by which i had not seen for an age, since Virgil and i had travelled beyond the banner, as i bore witness to the strangely clothed man, i then realised all at once, the manner, at which he came to be here, it was in fact the one i searched for all this time, the clamour, in my heart was like ablaze all at once, as i could have almost thrust a fist, but i knew a manner, of which to that degree, would not work on one as powerful as he, as they are mightier by a fair degree. At the end of his journey he saw the devil, stroking the corpse of a lamb, What took you so long? He laughed maniacally, he did not give a damn, for my journey all i got so the blood of a fawn, and the sacrament, of a fallen angel, disused putrid filth on the shoes of the testament, which i now yield as my oath, i must return i tell him hurrying to me tenement, he says stop right there Dante! You have been tricked they do not wish for my return, only for you to suffer, as each time you return, there is more pain inflicted upon your mind, and no amount of holy water, can cleanse a corrupted heart, so deeply scarred by the wind, of the time immemorial, as you forget you have been here for ages, yet have not aged a day? I look down at my hands, and realise the red dragon is correct, i have not aged but why, should i still be mortal, if i have travelled through hell and back and survived i belie, my curiosity with faith, but i do not believe that any amount of faith can justify, what an obvious fallacy, this predicament has brought upon me, as i tally, the days since i was in purgatory, i count at least 65, maybe 66 i rally, myself to the thought, that there must be good reason, for this treason, would not make any sense, unless the former, wanted my body incensed. My funerary would put an end to my suffering, but without my beloved, i would not suffer the indignatory, of such an il' oft service so luvd, as i would believe i am, as so many sought my works in time of coved, abstinence when it felt like the heavens, weren't appealing to their unreserved, kindness and pure appreciation, of god and all the holy hosts, they all groved, unnoticed as their dearly departed fell like leaves, from a lonely grove, a hovel made from the bones of those who built this place, a purgatorio of love. THE END Dante Alighieri
