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The Divine Comedy

The aetherial overworld is torrid and smoking-

all the places you’ve been and all that you’ve sinned,

just another ring


The divine comedy


You walked on shattered glass,

having been told,

the fragments would cut your feet

Took off your shoes,

to feel their release

and let yourself bleed


Searing your soles on a bed of coal


Do you think that the dead dwell amid bounding elysian fields in the sky?

Sail through beatific cosmos and recount days of the inferno?

Are liberated by the end of elaborate plans and illimitable demands, existing for eons of zion as we will when we finally meet our time?


Or will we be nothing more than stardust on the other side?



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