Sphere I: The Moon (The Inconstant Border)

I shot into the sky like a rocket flare, With Beatrice ahead to lead the flight. We hit the Moon—a pearl inside the air, All smooth and shiny, glowing milky white. I asked her, “Hey, what are these dark spots here? Is it old Cain with thorns, or cloudy atmosphere?”

She gave a physics lecture, grand and long, To prove my clumsy theories completely wrong. Then ghostly faces floated into view, Like reflections in a window, faint and blue. Piccarda Donati smiled from out her place, The highest-ranking slacker in this space.

“We broke our holy vows,” she sweetly said, “Because some thugs forced us to go and wed. We’re at the bottom of the heavenly chart, But we don’t mind, we love our little part!” In Heaven, no one fights for better seats, Even the losers get their holy treats.

Sphere II: Mercury (The Ambitious Overachievers)

The second planet was a ball of chrome, Where Mercury was spinning fast and bright. A thousand sparks came rushing from their home, Like hyperactive fireflies in the night. These were the souls who fought for earthly fame, Ensuring history remembered their big name.

Emperor Justinian stepped up to the mic, And gave a history speech no one could like. He went from Roman eagles down to law, The longest monologue the cosmos ever saw. He talked of politics and empire-building, To give his earthly ego some extra gilding.

They loved the Lord, but loved a good applause, And dedicated life to public cause. But now they’re wrapped in cocoons of pure light, Which hides their faces from my human sight. They sang a hymn, which caused me a vague pain, And left us in the cosmic zone again.

Sphere III: Venus (The Reformed Lovers)

Next was the star of Venus, flashing red, Where lovers from the past were doing laps. The carnal types who used to lose their head Were now just doing rap and wearing caps. They spun in circles like a disco ball, Repenting for the times they bared it all.

Charles Martel popped out to say hello, And bitched about his relatives below. Then Cunizza, a lady wild and free, Said, “Hey, my love life was a sight to see! But now I’m holy, and I don’t regret A single kiss or tangled fishy net.”

And Folco the poet bragged about his sins, Before the grace of Heaven changed his skins. They didn’t blush or hide their sketchy past, They just rejoiced that love was pure at last. The planet twinkled like a cheesy ring, As Beatrice prepared another wing.

Sphere IV: The Sun (The Nerd Syndicate)

We hit the Sun, a blinding, sweaty zone, Where twelve great scholars formed a dancing ring. They circled round us like a giant clone, And started to philosophize and sing. Thomas Aquinas led the brilliant pack, Patting his rival nerds upon the back.

He told a story of St. Francis bold, Who married Lady Poverty, I’m told. Then Bonaventure rose from out the choir, To praise St. Dominic with holy fire. The Dominicans and Franciscans played real nice, Trading polite applause in Paradise.

They formed a second ring, a double wheel, Stamping their feet with academic zeal. They debated logic, dogma, and the truth, Like an old faculty room from days of youth. My eyes were watering from all the glare, As we skipped upward through the solar air.

Sphere V: Mars (The Cosmic Fight Club)

The fifth apartment was a crimson scene, Where Holy Warriors formed a giant cross. It flashed and blinked like a neon screen, Showing the bad guys who was truly boss. The souls were moving like a shooting star, Reliving all their victories from afar.

My great-great-grandfather, Cacciaguida, arose, And started counting up his family’s woes. He told me how old Florence was all teed, Before the citizens lost their dignity. “No fancy clothes, no makeup, and no fraud, Just honest folks who feared the living God!”

Then he dropped the bomb about my future state: “They’re going to exile you, that is your fate! You’ll beg for bread and sleep on foreign stairs!” I gasped, but he just told me, “No one cares! Just write your poem, name the rotten crooks!” So here I am, venting in these books.

Sphere VI: Jupiter (The Holy Spelling Bee)

We reached the silver light of Jove’s estate, Where righteous rulers flew in formation flight. They formed big letters, heavy and sedate, To spell out Latin phrases in the night: DILIGITE IUSTITIAM, they traced, Before the final M was quite effaced.

The M transformed into a giant Eagle’s head, Representing justice and the holy dead. The bird had one big voice, though made of crowds, And started squawking from the silver clouds. It bitched about the modern Christian kings, Who sold out justice for some shiny things.

Even some pagans made it to this nest! Trajan and Rhipeus were among the blest. “God’s grace is tricky,” said the feathered beak, “It finds the people whom you wouldn’t seek.” The eagle flapped, the rulers took their cue, And Beatrice signaled that our time was through.

Sphere VII: Saturn (The Silent Library)

The seventh sphere was chilly, dark, and still, A place for monks who liked to meditate. A golden ladder stretched above the hill, Reaching to heights I couldn’t calculate. The souls were moving up and down the rungs, Holding their breath and silencing their tongues.

Peter Damian stepped down to my stair, And I asked why no music filled the air. “The singing here would make your eardrums crack!” He whispered loud, and told me to stand back. Then he ranted on how modern bishops eat, Needing three servants just to move their feet.

St. Benedict showed up to join the gripe, Complaining that his monks had lost their stripe. Then suddenly the crowd let out a roar, Like a thousand cannons hitting on the floor! It was so loud I nearly lost my skin— The holy quiet was a total bin.

Sphere VIII: The Fixed Stars (The Pop Quiz)

We climbed the ladder to the cosmic heights, And I looked down to see our tiny Earth. “A threshing floor,” I laughed at all our fights, “A little speck of zero human worth!” Then Christ appeared in a flash of blinding day, With Virgin Mary leading the array.

But before I could enjoy the holy view, St. Peter jumped me with a quiz or two. “Define your Faith!” he barked, like a dean. I sweated hard and cited the machine. Then James popped up to test my view on Hope, And John asked about Love, to see if I could cope.

I passed the exams with straight-A holy grades, And Adam walked by from the ancient shades. He told me how long he lived inside the garden, Before the apple tree required a pardon. St. Peter turned red and cursed the current Pope, Then gave me clearance to continue up the slope.

Sphere IX: The Primum Mobile (The Clockwork Engine)

The ninth apartment was the master clock, The fastest-spinning circle in the sky. It drives the universe around the block, Though it has nothing for the human eye. But in the center blazed a single point of light, So sharp and bright it ruined my eyesight.

Around this point, nine rings of angels flew, Like cosmic race cars burning through the blue. The Seraphim were winning in lane one, While the poor Angels found their race just begun. Beatrice explained the whole angelic chart, And took some time to tear the monks apart.

“The priests tell jokes and fables in the church,” She snapped, “And leave the congregations in the lurch! They sell indulgences to fat old hams, And feed their people with deceptive scams!” With that last rant, she turned her eyes above, To lift us to the final home of love.

The Empyrean (The Cosmic Stadium)

We broke through space and reached the final floor, A sea of light where time and place are dead. The saints sat rows-deep, ten thousand or more, Inside a giant Rose, all white and red. It looked exactly like a football stadium, Under a roof of digital titanium.

I turned around to ask my trusty guide— But Beatrice had vanished from my side! She’d taken her seat up on the third-tier row, Leaving St. Bernard to finish up the show. He pointed out the VIPs in style: Look, there’s St. Peter, Eve, and John a while!

He prayed to Mary to clear my mortal sight, And I looked deep into the triple light. Three geometric circles, tight and bound, A human face inside the flashes found!

My poetic engine sputtered and went dead, With no more words inside my mortal head. The universe spun round in perfect time, Driven by Love—and that’s the end of line!