DANTE'S UNWRITTEN CANTO
And then the sojourner came to that part of hell,
Which is known as the land of veil,
Though everything lay open and bare,
Except the invisible hand that none can dare.
There the air was thick as smoke,
And the time ran murderously amok,
So far the vision of eyes could go,
Thousands of beehives high and low,
But not dwelt by bees that blossom the flowers,
But men under constant threats of the clower,
They all wake in the same hour,
Move in skill round the tower,
They work, they kill, cheat each other,
Till some fall and quickly replaced,
By the fool who thinks himself to be the blessed,
They're all dressed in the same atire,
Can't be sure who is the miss and who the sir,
Yet this is only the game's matinee,
We need going through, another tyrany,
In the land of identicals you could never be sure,
How much pleasure could be termed as the point of no more.
(Courtesy- Bibek Sen
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