Sunday, November 14, 2010

I walk onwards ever more...

Dante and Virgil in Hell Dante and Virgil in Hell

For many years I dwelt
in the darkness of my soul,
lit only so that I could see
flashing knives and billiard cues.
I thought this Hell was paradise,
a woman hanging off each arm,
kisses caress a battered heart,
the loneliness of my long night.

Lingering darkness enclosed me,
soon blanking out the caresses
and kisses of those who’d take me,
courage gone and my warmth withdrawn
ever so slowly from my heart,
will to act receding to despair
with only memories to dog
my bitterness, I could not breath.

With all joy drained from my heart
I shivered and shook in darkness ,
my middle years had emptied me
leaving me only with clarity,
stripped bare of all love and hopeless,
I prayed for help and help arrived
restoring faith through charity,
hope melting my frost encrusted soul.

I moved out of that dark, dank cave
onto the mountain slopes, and saw
a flickering light before me.
A guide from ancient times appeared
and told me how he’d, too, been led
by one older still towards that light.
When he told me that this light, so pure,
was Beatrice, I knew his words rang true.

With renewed hope I start my climb,
encouraged on by the old man
towards the promise of paradise
ahead, the light flickering bright
above me as I ascend the rocky slopes
toward the pinnacle, suppliants
all around me , not looking back
to glance at the dark pit behind.

All the way praising He who forgives,
the rising sun that makes birds sing,
nor forgetting the delusion I’d lived
in ignorance, I climb ever forth
at risk of falling back below
to that place that freezes hearts
and saps your blood, taking the breath
away so that one can no longer speak.

At nightfall I recall the path
I’ve taken that day, ensuring
that I am moving ever closer
to that beacon of love above
that some call heaven, Beatrice
leads my way and draws me ever
closer to her, blinded as I am
by the opaque radiance of her face.

The curtains open, each word I speak
is spoken through me, a spirit
far greater than I’ll ever be,
each word given to me in love
lights the way forward for me.
The moon hangs like a gondala
above, her kindness shining down
mistaken for the softness of a kiss.

Soft is her touch against my skin
dried ageing, in the hour reserved
for lovers she silently glides
past me, warming my cold heart
that is torn with longing for her,
she who will one day be my reward
in Paradise, far away from these
rocky slopes and the deep ravines of Hell.

Just like those who passed before me,
my path is lit by Beatrice
so that I may side step obstacles
strewn in my path, falling rocks
and grey precipice foreboding.
I make my way towards the light
that is she who will show me the way
to love, through to my longed for Paradise.

Gustave Doré's illustration to Dante's Inferno... Beatrice am I. Whom did bid thee go?Beatrice, deep down in my soul
far beyond my thoughts and my heart,
I know that one day you will take me
by your hands silkily, and lead me
on those last precarious steps,
and lay with me on a feather bed
sheeted with fine silk and linen,
savouring each other in sweet embrace.

Each honeyed moment we’ll taste
the sweetness of perfumed bodies
entwined in love to He who saves,
relishing in what is no sin
but freely given to us by Him,
to ecstasy we’ll soar, holding
each other in each others’ arms
we’ll be united in everlasting love.
So for you I walk onwards evermore
so that one day we’ll meet in Paradise.

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