Once Upon a Time, in a Timeless State of Mind…

There was an apple tree with a serpent named Satan. He coils down the tree-trunk to greet Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth, who sits in the Divine Dirt with Gospel the Vampire Bat hanging from the stem of his mind.

Satan:  Sss. Take this apple, Jack.

Jack: (takes apple) What am I to do with this fruit, Satan?

Satan:  Sss. The worm in the grass would love a bite, Jack. Sss.

Jack lowers the apple to the worm in the grass, and it takes a bite, and it grows one hundred-fold in length, and it grows one hundred-fold in width, and Jack is in a stare, and the worm neighs.

Jack:  What am I to do with this beast, Satan?

Satan:  Sss. Take it by the reins, Jack …Sss… Reign triumphant, Jack.

The worm sprouts two horns. Jack takes it by the reins.

Jack:  H’ya!

Down into the wormhole.

Worm Ride.

Jack:  Look at that wooden sign there, for certain we have made it to Hade’s core.

Wooden Sign:  “May Those Who Enter Here Leave All Hope Behind…”

Jack:  We have reached Hell’s Gates.

Virgil:  It is a battle of brimstone in there, my Son. Indeed, the Fates have led you to the Inferno.

Jack:  What is the bad news, Great Poet?

Virgil:  It is only bad if you think that it is bad, my Son. I believe I will, so I will. And you shall will it too. For after Dante’s ascension to the highest highs of Paradiso, it is said that he had returned back to the lowest lows of the Inferno. For what, I am unsure. But I do seek to find out and so I shall find out – as this is the oldest Rule of the Land. If willed, fate will find a way.

Jack:  Hop on, we will take this task by the reins and reign triumphant.

Virgil climbs, Hell’s Gates open, and into the Inferno the worm rides. The first encounter of a sinner is a masterfully mysterious piece to see. It is a man who struggles to climb a mountain that is made of glass and is wrapped in barbs; it is a mountain that also possesses, like a heart, a kindled fire inside of it where an alpine of piled bills burn like a bonfire.

Virgil:  Halt it here, I feel something inside of my heart, which thou shalt forever follow.

Jack:  The one who climbs there, state your name and your sin, Sir.

Il:  For my name is Il and Ill Will is my sin. I had a rich life, and I am certainly a master of the dollar bill. For everything that I had conquered, that flimsy piece of paper that helps but does not heal, was my goal. The Devil made me rich, and so in return I had handed him my crying soul on a silver plate, willingly, with Ill Will. And so here I am trying to conquer my past-try with nothing but the Will of God in my mournful heart. I must scale this mountain of glass and barbs and burning bills. It is a horrid and burning-sharp situation, but I believe that God would not hand me something that is impossible to conquer. I believe I will.

Virgil:  And so, you will.

Jack:  Il Sommo Poeta– The Supreme Poet, Dante, have you seen him?

Il:  Ah, yes. Last time I heard, he was trying.

Jack:  Trying? What dost he try?

Virgil:  My heart speaks and whispers that this is all we will need to let us go forward.

Jack:  Blessings in your endeavors, Il. I hope that you will take this mountain by the reins and reign triumphant.

Il:  Fare-well.

The worm rides. The second encounter of a sinner is a masterfully mysterious piece to see. It is a man who stands stung between a swarm of killer bees and a lion named Pride.

Virgil:  Halt it here, I feel something inside of my heart, which thou shalt forever follow.

Jack:  You there, in the misery, your name and your sin, Sir.

Sommo:  My name is Sommo, and my sin is my Superbia, which indeed is my pride. It is a wretched situation I am in, and the dismal death hurts me more and more every time. For I had taken all the credit in the World and swelled up my swollen head, and thanked God not; whilst he is the one who gives Man himself. And so, my venom-mission in this realm of repentance is to take on the stinging needles of the killing bees, in order to protect the lion that is called Pride. Every hour on the timeline of eternity I am to roll around in itchy pollen and attract the swarm of killers. Pride cares not for me, and he shreds his claws down my back whilst I am protecting him from his own doom. It is a wretched situation I am in, and I die a dismal death every hour on the timeline of eternity – which hurts me more and more every time. Pride has conquered me, and so I am forced to guard and protect Pride with my dying life like I did when I was back in the World.

Virgil:  Do you Will to return to the World, Sommo?

Sommo:  I do.

Virgil:  So, you will. As this is the oldest Rule of the Land.

Jack:  Il Sommo Poeta– The Supreme Poet, Dante, have you seen him?

Sommo:  For my eyes are swollen with killer stings, and so I doth not see at all. But perhaps I have eared out a thing at least once.

Jack:  What is the thing that you once eared out?

Sommo:  I had once heard the words “Save” and “Dante” uttered amongst a devil.

Virgil:  I feel something inside of my heart, which thou shalt forever follow. Let my beating heart take the reins so that we may reign triumphant.

Sommo:  Fare-well.

The worm rides, and Jack and Virgil approach the entrance of a cave that leads to the hollow core of a mountain. There is a gatekeeper here, who sits cross-legged in the lotus posture on the Divine Dirt. With fingers on fire, he scribbles words on a stone slate that rests upon his lap.

Jack:  Your name and your sin, Sir.

Poeta:  My name is Poeta, for I am an Evil Poet whose sin is possession. An artist, I was. Prosperous and advanced indeed. I mastered the language of poetry, but used it not to open hearts and liberate minds. Manipulation and control, was my wager. Confusion and a distorted psyche, was my dreadful gig. So now I am doomed to sit here and make poetry for all who enter into the lowest lows of this central sinful core that is the Inferno. I am forced to scratch my poetry onto slated rock, using not a pen, but my own burning fingertips dipped into the blistering sulfurs of Hell.

Jack:  Write out our poem, Poeta, as it is your shackled bind and your dying duty. We are making entrance.

With burning pain and tears in his eyes, Poeta scratches with sulfur upon the slate upon his lap. He hands it to Virgil.

Slate Reads:  Take Life by The Reins & Reign Triumphant”

Virgil:  Best wishes, Poeta, I hope that you hope to do the same.

Poeta:  I do hope.

Virgil:  You will achieve.

Jack:  Let us pass, as Il Sommo Poeta– The Supreme Poet, Dante, is felt inside of Virgil’s own beating heart, to had made haste inside to the core.

Poeta:  Fare-well.

By an earthly force, the boulder that sits before the mouth of the cave, rolls and grants access. Before your very own eyes, it is laid out for you here:

Jack:  Lo, The Devil.

Centre a Lake of Fire with brimstone keeping a steady rain, is a standing stone. And on this standing stone stands with pointed toes, a monstrous beast – half dragon and half machine; with a branding singed onto his heartless chest that reads: THE DEVIL. Hearken hither to this oddity of a discreet invention: Two long horns are blossomed from the forehead, but on the forehead, is pinned a wheel. And on the face of this wheel is nailed an upside-down crucifix.

Virgil:  Il Sommo Poeta, Dante. (points) He is there.

Jack:  Dante has gone mad, Virgil?

Virgil:  Nay, my Son.

Jack:  What is his motive, Great Poet?

Ah, now I will let you in on the scoop. For with just a rope and his own divine being, Dante has scaled The Devil and has made it to the beast’s shoulder. He balances and tiptoes, and brings himself to the edge of the shoulder’s blade.

Jack:  He is mad, Virgil.

Virgil:  Nay, my Son.

With arms stretched high towards Paradiso, Dante leaps. He claws and clasps the upside-down cross that is nailed to the wheel that is pinned to the forehead of The Devil, and spins it to right-side-up. Dante slips, and the Lake of Fire is turned into water, and the raining brimstone is turned into rain, and The Devil – turned into ice.

Jack:  My eyes are wide now, Virgil. He is not mad.

Virgil:  He is just Trying to Save the Sinners, my Son.

Jack:  That rain is triumphant, Virgil.

Virgil:  That rain Reigns Triumphant, my Son.

Dante:  I felt something inside of my heart, which thou shalt forever follow.

The Devil crumbles.

Abracadabra.

 

COPY @ 2019 JACK O’LANTERN