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Poetry by Claire de LuneClaire de lune
La Tragedia Dell'alba
  • In gloom, one may glow.
    In pain, one may hold peace.
    In chaos, one may find calm.
    In Hell, one may seek hope.

    And there, he sought, in the eighth ring,
    Where fraudsters were set ablaze,
    Where Odysseus, the horse breeder,
    Drooled flames and affliction.
    Here lived Luce, the outsider.
    Evil as he seemed, wicked as they deemed,
    His devilish chest ached as agony was thrusted
    Upon the sinners’ corrupt crust.
    His eyne watered as bellows and shrieks
    Echoed within the hollow unholy cave
    “O torturous I, to toil and thrust.
    When shall this cease? All the darkness
    And despair that fill this unfavourable pit.
    O prithee, prithee, pain-free fire from above!
    If thou truly have legion mercy borne in thy chest,
    Bless my nefarious soul and grant me a guide;
    Hence, he and I shall embark the quest for quietude,”
    Quoth the inapt, whose palms extended in the dark,
    Bracing his soul for the divine signal.
    The air grew still like the dead’s breath.
    All the blazes and all the banes abated.
    And hark! The hellish choir symphonised
    As if Gabriel has descended upon the chthonic chamber.
    “Tis the sign! Tis the sign! O heavenly sign!”
    The trail had turned. The disposition had been done.
    The new thread had been spun.

    And there, lurking amongst the agonised,
    A serpent had been eying the jubilant sentry.
    Thuban, son of Ananias, had his wicked scheme.
    Centuries in this harrowing abyss, he bore.
    Now the ride had come before him,
    And eager he, to pay his Charon’s obol.
    “O my lord, my holy pilgrim,
    Was it thou who hast summon I? Was it thou
    Whom the grace of the Great above
    Hath descended upon? I have come hither,
    So as to be thy Virgil and escort thee
    To the land thee set thy heart upon.
    Up above this cursed cavity,
    The mighty fireball beams but burns none;
    Illumination, the vast field filled, darkness subsides;
    Maladies wane; melodies wax;
    Sunrises bathe Shepherd’s plain with His pax.
    Out of this fraudulent cavern, epiphany awaits.
    And thou shall witness peace in thy heart.
    Hence, grant I thy mercy and hoist I thither
    Ere my holy soul is devoured.” the corrupt cried.
    Reverberating, ‘sunrise’ grasped Luce’s heart
    But the gate to his faith sealed withal.

    “What clepe thee?” the outsider inquired.
    “Thuban, Servant of Hermes, my lord.”
    “If thou art truly the holy lamp of mine,
    Wherefore art thou breathe Ares’ sword?
    Wherefore thou shed the shell so benign?”
    “Tis His intent, O my pilgrim, to bind our threads.
    To twig thy purpose, I must thole thy pain.”
    The Hadean minion’s eyne hunted for veracity.
    Quod est superius est sicut quod inferius.
    To his eyne, this abyss, shadow devoured,
    And to his heart, the world is veiled, unbeknownst.
    Inly vexed, the storm of incertitude.
    But then the infernal guard uttered
    “If thou speak sooth, willing thou, to swear an oath?”
    “Pardie, my lord, with all my virtue,”
    Availed, the deceit brewer hath paid his obol.
    “Hence, avaunt we! Be my torch,
    And I shall be thy sword. Take me, O holy guide,
    To the land whither morrow light
    Bathes the bygone shadowed loam.”
    Thus, the quest for sunrise stretched onwards.

    The Apollo’s glow glared the resurrected.
    And sombre words casted upon terrene gate:
    “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,”
    But, of Luce, hope is but the guiding gale,
    That propelled and ushered he hither.
    Treasure he shall, and keep it in his heart.
    The snake inbreathed deep the crisp vigour.
    “Not so foul, the wild wallow’s scent.”
    And dazzling against the gleaming sun,
    Sirius hung on the sentry’s redden chest.
    “O my lord, do tell, what constellation
    Dwells o’er thy heart” asked the serpent.
    “Tis accursed pendant. Think not of thieving it,
    For it shall return to me in time,
    And to lowly mortal who touches,
    Thanatos shall creep at its shadow
    Til the shade and its caster coalesce.
    Tis thy sunrise?” The foreigner queried.
    “Nay, my lord, Tis but a noontide.
    Sunrise awaits thee where Tiber expires.”
    Thus, westwards they wandered.

    “Hist! Hearken! What calamity befalls this place?”
    The chthonic pilgrim hollered as Gaia’s gut grumbled.
    All the trees quivered; all the souls shivered.
    Yet, the serpent pushed onwards, unwavered.
    The clamour grew near; O flowing fear.
    And not one nor twain, but waves of men rammed.
    Lo! Ragnarök hath betided afore time.
    And Bah-bah-boom! war drums thundered.
    Hither and thither, men were severed.
    Of fallen battlers, human fabric formed,
    Drenched in vast sea incarnadine.
    And stand frontwards, Polyphemus gobbled
    Lifeless limbs, O beastly baneful abyss!
    And whirled, his sole eye foraged for more triumphs,
    Yet turned blind at the dying bodies aback.
    And mishap befell them; puissant brute hath eyed his prey.
    Hammering he, the cyclops nigh bashed the devil.
    Yet great tale recounted and ending repeated.
    The devil David hath slain Goliath once anew.
    Gory head dangled; the cannibal tumbled.
    And avant! He fled the bloody scene.
    Upwards a sharp steep, the serpent stood, dismayed.
    And alow, gushing crimson river flowed.
    Men dipped down, steaming stream flowed, bellows aloud.
    Horsemen patrolled and slaughtered the living.
    “Fie, foul fiend! What tribulation becurses this plain?
    Thou promised peace!” Roared the Hadean sentry.
    “O my lord, take amiss not, for I pledged thee the truth
    As Aletheia’s speech. War is but whence
    Feigned shell stripped and essence manifested.
    Men murder, yet they succour.
    And there, thou shall find peace,
    Creeping beneath the rotting carcasses,
    O behold, my hallowed pilgrim.”
    And in the burgundy cemetery, hands joined,
    Wounded hoisted, tiny tots enfolded their surviving loves.
    And on the crumbling bones, thrived the flourished poppies.
    And onwards they went, deep into the dark wood.

    Inly Gaia’s embrace, all lives blossomed,
    Canaries caroling, coocoos chorusing,
    Faunas frisking, floras flirting.
    “O elegant Gaia, wherefore art thou keep
    Thy glamour within thy bosoms
    And forsake the cavern
    Whence I arose to rot and corrode?”
    Lamented the chthonic pilgrim.
    But lo! The holt grew hushed.
    Canaries deadened; zephyr suspended. And egad!
    The guide hath vanished with the vigorous wind.
    Leaves shaken in the deep wood dark; hence, he pursued.
    And onwards grimed path paved.
    Wooden skeletons lined, unrobed.
    Green ground faded, muck-caked.
    On the border of the world, Vulcan’s pillars grew.
    The Nephelai gathered, plotting their mischief.
    And Bang! The heaven blast clapped.
    From the North, Boreas carried brumal curse.
    All blooms withered, lying low.
    From the South, Notus casted tempestuous burst.
    All barns collapsed, succumbed to the blows.
    There Luce, legs nailed to the muddy ground,
    Witnessed another end of Earth,
    Not by one’s ends, but from one’s means.
    Then the colossus clouds ruptured,
    Hurling oceans upon the forsaken Eden.
    And seared, the rainfall dig, deep into his fleshly crust.
    The escapee tumbled as ruinous torrent deluged,
    Sending the once-idyllic land under Poseidon’s belly.

    Revived from demise, Luce’s eyne gaped.
    The cataclysmic current hath passed,
    Yet nothing withstood, all away, but wasteland.
    And up above the spared crag, a beast grunted.
    Crank-crank-crank, it growled and disgorged flames,
    Sending a fume pillar to heaven,
    But remained dormant withal; hence, on forth he,
    Passing the slumbering Typhon, into the weird wen.

    The sky remained dark and dreary,
    Devouring the flameball that had shone glaringly.
    The sky remained dark and dreary,
    “Doth the sun ever rise in verity?”
    The sky remained dark and dreary.
    “Hast we ever crossed the abyss’ boundary?”
    The sky remained dark and dreary.
    The serpent watched the revived irately.

    Nyx hath conquered the heaven, darkness befell we.
    The Hellish sentry threaded mart-wards.
    And there, pauper lied like skin-robed skeletons.
    Maimed man mourned to his perished warmates.
    From the lifeless meadow, crofters’ heads lolled.
    And amongst the indigents, rested the vanished serpent.
    In ichor, he drowned, wailing like wintery winds.
    “Whither hast thou been, O guide?”
    “O my lord, vile varmints ambushed I.
    Hence, I require thy cordial assistance!
    With thy holy probity, shall my lord acquire the
    Panacea which lies thither in that store?”
    “Wherefore ought I to avail thee?
    Thou well-neigh sent me to Hades’ gate.”
    “O my lord, be wroth not! Tis only ill fate.
    I beseech thee. The chimera’s claws hath put me
    On the bank of Styx. Oblige me, and we shall rise
    To the blessing dawn that awaits thee.”
    As though bewitched, the sentry trod towards the store.
    And stood there, abdominous Mammon.
    On fingers, it wore thousands of dazzling suns.
    Like a deadly trap, it devoured three swine at once.
    Laid forth on a fine table, all cooking and cures aligned.
    “What dost thou seek, O dear patron?” The devil inquired.
    “I require a cure for my guide,
    Whom chimera’s claws hath descended upon.”
    “That shall cost thee 2 florins, but if thee hast none withal,
    I shall take thy stars-twinkling pendant.
    What say thou?” the devil propounded and leered
    At the homing pigeon that sparkled against the waxed Moon.
    ‘What sheer fraud I would carry out!
    But for the sight of sunrise and Shepherd’s plain,
    Even butchery I shall commit,’ pondered the sentry.
    “Aye, that shall do,” the fraudster handed his medallion.
    Head drooping, the serpent vilely eyed his compeer.
    And lo, the Nephelai hath devour Artemis!
    All gleams withered; all glows, consumed.
    Gloom showered; unseen sun, inhumed.
    Yet the rejoined pendant shone aflame.
    And there, terra trembled like timid troopers.
    “Dost thou know how thy medallion mirrors thee?”
    The serpent inquired, “tis that, in time,
    Twill return to where it befits.”
    And alow, Hades hath gaped his mouth
    Like fallen Icarus, Luce dipped
    Down the dark abyss, woe devoured.
    And anew, the serpent hath beguiled
    Its unwary dupe, subtlety filled.
    Atropos hath moved her shears.
    And down, the thread fell, inert.

    Thousand suns soared and sank.
    Firmament turned fair and foul.
    Deserts swallowed riverbanks.
    Diadems dropped unto the ground, aloud.
    Yet, the fraudsters remain fire-coated,
    The sinned vessel hath once again spotted
    Its beacon, floating in the sea of bellows,
    Set aflame, along with their deceitful fellows

    In gloom, one may glow.
    In pain, one may hold peace.
    In chaos, one may find calm.
    In Hell, one may seek hope.
    Yet, hope abandoned,
    Ye who belong here.


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