HELL WOULDN’T HAVE IT

If only this, of my hand you read,

Open your mind, and do believe,

That beyond this sheer plane

Are many and more…

To recount their unimaginable horrors, I endeavor.

And if of all that I write,
this be all that you heed,

Open your mind, and do believe…

In the land of Gehennah,
The sky does burn red,

And slave-driving beasts
Torment the restless dead.

See that men are fastened to carriage and plow

Trudging hopelessly, forever,
upon dry, barren ground.

As here, nothing grows,
but the flames of the pit,

Where human slaves are caged
until a roasting at the spit.

And in Gehennah, there is no death, as of yet, no poor creature has left

From the borders of that sad, forsaken hole.

The winds that do blow,
sear the face as the soul

And the men, on their knees, with palms buried in the dust of these ash hills do cry

“How can it be that this never may cease?”

To imagine their suffering, one may shudder…

I have had these things revealed to me, though bitter in my heart…

And though of course I wanted not to believe my own eyes. For I, as you do likely now,
Found myself, at first, fearful and worried…

Unable to comprehend
the sense of loss, immense,
nor the prospect of an everlasting torture.

I have had these things revealed to me, though bitter in my heart…

That I might share them, that you might believe,

And reflect upon this life’s great fortune.

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