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Poem: Meeting Dante

Writer on Hubpages and Harvard School of Public Health Alumni


A meeting with Dante?

On this gloomy night, I feel as useless as ever. As I disdainfully attempt to get some much-needed rest, with relatively few, if any, partners holding up such an inconvenient time

My awareness was beginning to waver. I see something weeping at my entryway and am completely shocked. Its tearful wails were met with scenes of utter misery.

Finally arriving into my line of sight was a spirit or ghost emerging from the dullest, darkest part of the space? Since there was no light, I thought I was horrifyingly dreaming.

A fortuitous encounter with a ghost? Such a meeting. Its nefarious nature was immediately clear from the springtime appearance.I stumbled as it approached me. With the surrounding atmosphere sounds peaceful to me

Before me was our steadfast poet. On this supposedly endless night, it appears as Dante's hollow Dante as the soul.

After gathering and moving on from the gravestone past there, I followed him to my room and thought. I could with his help as a supernatural being pulled toward me.

His thoughtful face and beautiful features were disfigured by horror. He clenched a Bible next to him. A coated edition of the inferno, too!

He called to me "There is no inferno that awaits. Nothing is underneath me! Simply the ground is holding up my desires.”

I wanted to be as appreciative as others who came before me wanted to be.How would we justify our offenses?I was unable to be found by any other idea.

"There is nothing! There is nothing!" he delicately conferred

“The most fundamental sin is barbarism. However, there is a lot more than that.”

As depressing an intake as from any

© 2022 Michael Mannen