Geryon landed with a mighty sound, trembling the underearth,
Cautiously, yet, as to not disturb the peace of his riders’
Flight across hell’s rings. Virgil, still unmoved, that man of girth,
Turned to me with sweet consideration, ignorant fellow flyers
Were we, watching that wretched beast at once depart.
Upon the sight of his redirection, it soon occurred to me that I admire
The newfound grace and beauty within his art
He mastered of sky and earth. He seemed to me now
Like a sweet dove, much like Florence’s common part
Where among pigeons swarm and beat their wings so foul:
A lonely dove, pure and white, stained not with city’s grime,
Unnoticed in the busy noise and bustling crowd.
True and righteous beauty ignored is true crime
When concealed dark only by many others so appalling.
But perhaps that silent injustice makes sublime
What beauty already exists without calling.
And so Geryon, that creature I had once feared
Now seemed magnificently swift, and when falling
Reminded me of such innocent fowl reared
So rarely amongst the earth’s population,
Geryon was that creature’s appearance for now I cared.
“What beauty may lay among this evil desolation?”
Virgil to me answered, “In truth lies beauty, and in truth
Rests sweet justice, by God’s hand upon his belovèd creation.”
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