As Virgil led me down the path once more,
The air grew colder, dread seeped through my bones,
We neared the third circle, where souls implore.
The landscape shifted, dark as ancient stones,
Grotesque and foul, yet somehow known to me,
A place where endless hunger moans and groans.
The ground beneath was slick with rot's debris,
A putrid mire, a slush of rancid waste,
Where earth itself had turned to sickly sea.
Above, the sky was veiled in dark disgrace,
From which a rain of filth did ceaseless pour,
A storm of foul decay that none could face.
"This is the gluttons' realm," said Virgil, sore,
"Those who consumed in life with endless greed,
Now lie in muck, condemned forevermore."
We walked the mire, where souls in pain would plead,
Their bloated forms in filth and slush enshrined,
Their mouths still open wide, yet never freed.
The icy rain did mix with muck and grind,
A sickening mire that clung to every limb,
Their bodies drowned in filth of their own kind.
The souls, they writhed, their hands in fevered whim,
Clawing at earth, consuming mud with lust,
Their eyes dull orbs, their faces lost and grim.
They gnawed the sludge, their hunger still unjust,
As if they sought to fill a void inside,
A hunger endless, never to adjust.
Their howls did pierce the air, like dogs they cried,
A chorus of despair, a primal wail,
Their souls undone by greed they once applied.
These were the ones who, in life's sordid tale,
Tried to find meaning in what they consumed,
Yet never found the peace that they did hail.
In endless cycles, now they are entombed,
Wallowing in the filth they had amassed,
In gluttony's embrace forever doomed.
Then came a growl that shook the mire's vast,
A monstrous form emerged, a fearsome sight,
Cerberus, the guardian of the past.
But not the hound of myth in ancient rite,
A beast of flesh and metal, gears and wire,
A fusion of machine and creature's might.
His three heads snarled with rage and burning fire,
Each mouth a nightmare blend of twisted maw,
With eyes that gleamed like coals in Hell's own pyre.
The gluttons cowered, faced with deadly claw,
As Cerberus advanced with savage glee,
His hunger met their sins without a flaw.
He tore into a soul with swift decree,
His claws did rend the bloated flesh apart,
The screams of pain a wretched symphony.
Yet Virgil moved with calm and steady heart,
He knelt and scooped the muck with steady hand,
And flung it to the beast with practiced art.
The filth did choke the creature's fierce command,
And Cerberus, defeated, slunk away,
His wrath subdued, his power made less grand.
We left the beast and souls in their dismay,
But Virgil's voice did linger in the air,
As he explained what Cerberus did play.
"This beast is more than just a guardian's snare,
He is the corporations' monstrous face,
That fed on greed and want without a care."
"In life, these entities did souls debase,
Encouraging consumption without end,
Creating hunger, leaving empty space."
"In death, they feast on those they did befriend,
Their cycle of consumption still persists,
For endless greed, no soul can e'er amend."
The weight of Virgil's words, like iron fists,
Pressed on my heart as we walked through the mire,
Where gluttons' sins did echo in the mists.
I saw the souls, now trapped in their desire,
Engaged in scenes that shifted with a flash,
Their endless cycles feeding greed's own fire.
They sat before their screens in mindless thrash,
Their eyes glazed over as they watched the pitch,
Of endless products sold in endless dash.
Their hands did click "buy now," as if bewitched,
Their hunger never sated, always fed,
A spellbound state, their lives a fleeting glitch.
They gorged on food until their eyes turned red,
Their plates refilled, their hunger never quenched,
A feast of frenzy, never fully bled.
And then I saw them flaunt their goods entrenched,
In cycles of display and boastful pride,
But joy, so fleeting, left them cold, untrenched.
The cycle never ceased, the hunger wide,
No matter what they gained, it wasn't enough,
The void within could never be denied.
Virgil's voice broke through, his tone now rough,
"The corporations know just how to bind,
They feed on fear, on want, on human stuff."
"They create need, then offer cure in kind,
But it's a lie, the more they gain, they lose,
For in their greed, they leave all hope behind."
I nodded, feeling truth in Virgil's muse,
A never-ending hunger, deep and cold,
No matter what they bought, they still did bruise.
And as we walked, the vision did unfold,
The souls who let their lives be ruled by greed,
Now trapped in Hell, forever lost and sold.
Cerberus, the beast who sowed the seed,
Now feeds upon the souls he once enticed,
A cycle of despair in endless need.
As we moved on, my heart grew sacrificed,
To visions of the gluttons' endless pain,
Their lives reduced to nothing, all sufficed.
A lesson harsh, but one that did remain,
Of dangers when desire rules the mind,
And leaves the soul to rot in greed's domain.