Upon the mist-bound soil of Inferna I lay,
Midst stones that wept with dews of ancient sleep,
Ere light of Creatio had found the day.
I wist not how I came to shadows deep,
Away from Rerum, where the world of men
Doth sow the seeds that weary souls shall reap.
My breath was but a ghost within this glen,
A heavy frost upon a heart of stone,
Far from the Silentium I knew not then.
Then came a voice, a sound of gentler tone,
In speech of fields where Trent and Welland flow,
To me who sat in darkness all alone.
"Up, Gian, my lad, why art thou fallen low?
The mist is thick, the path is long to tread,
But through the dark, the seeds of Sophia grow."
I turned my head with heart of leaden dread,
And saw a traveler in a mantle grey,
Whose eyes held stars while mine were dull and dead.
"Art thou a man or shadow on the way?"
I cried in pain, my tongue a rusted bell,
Seeking a sign of hope's returning ray.
"I be Gabriel," he spake, and sooth to tell,
His words were home, like hearth in winter's bite,
Though we stood 'pon the very porch of Hell.
"God's Pater sent me from the halls of light,
To lead thee past the Abyssus wide and cold,
And guide thy soul through this unholy night."
"The Lignum Vitae calls, as was foretold,
But first the cone of Gehenna must be seen,
Where pride is stripped and secret sins unfold."
I rose in fear, my spirit frail and lean,
Looking behind where Voldemort might wait,
The ancient wolf, the thief of souls unseen.
"Fear not the leech who lingers at the gate,"
Gabriel did say, and took my hand in his,
"For Divinitas doth weave a higher fate."
Through graying mist where silence ever is,
We moved toward the pit of frozen grief,
To find the truth in that dark artifice.
The journey starts; the time of grace is brief.