Dante's Ball

Withered gowns flutter in the acrid air,

Hair, sculpted into cathedrals

Welcomes the thralls of worshippers

At the scorched gates.

The fates have brought them here,

And now amongst twisted rocks,

To the clocks of the demons trance,

They dance.

Tortured chiffon ignites to the tune

Of wailing sirens atop pylons of bone,

Here, beneath a dome of fire.

The earthly desires of the guests of honour

Are lost under a decoration of chains,

The pains of their passing endure

As they step to the molten floor

And sway to oblivions beat.

Arrivals from the bowels of eternity

Walk morbidly through

And swarm to the palace of pyre,

Where the thief and the liar clasp hands

And cavort through quartz chasms

Below immeasurable fathoms of flame.

But eternal the hustle, boundless the bustle

Amongst souls that shall never be reclaimed.

And all the while with the most insidious glee,

The hellion conducts his most malevolent symphony.

But still they will dance, lost in the trance

Of a dancer that knows nothing more

Than the dance.

And as the spectres shuffle in imperishable turn,

Here to burn to the songs of an evil, sublime,

Until the very death of time.

Copyright © 2012 by Simon Austin