"We have now completed our Dis-sent from Hell -001 to Hell -006 the six degrees of separation from God and each other. Do take a few precious moments to enjoy this achievement and spare a thought for the last pilgrim voyager to achieve the feat, Andante Alighieri, who made the entire epic journey on foot, give or take a short boat ride across the Styx and then had to endure an invented Purgatorio in what we now know are the mountain ranges under the frozen wastes of Antarctica before peaking at launchpad Eden. His geography was 'fredo' but his heart was in the right place.

But that's enough mediaeval and we are still only at Hell Bottom, the bottom line of our sub-humanity. We must now break its petrified super-ass (the stone floor of hell) the solidified might of all we ever done or been. Only Love has the energy to do this. There will be considerable turbulence and it may help to orientate passengers to picture our inner space shuttle emerging at the antipodes, divining beneath our hell depths to our truly human being, which simultaneously soaring towards heaven like the heart of a young girl in love. E quince uscimmo e riveter le Estelle. We emerge once more under the stars."

And when you gave, then turned away, your ocean eyes, I knew
My heart would break in waves there on the rocks of losing you.

I didn’t ask for this; I only breathed without belief
Unconscious idle prayers: I never dreamed you’d make them true.

My life’s in ruins now; I can’t go home, nor to your door:
In bar and hermit chapel, all I taste is missing you.

I talk about you all the time and think I’ve made some sense
But if my words can’t bring you near....what good can they do?

My days were full of waiting for your Christ feet at my door.
They’re empty now the dove in hand is just the bird that flew.

You touched me once; I closed my eyes; your warmth was like a fire;
I let it smoulder gently: now it blasts my heart in two.

O lover, don’t complain, “this never lost is never found”
The world will think you’re crazy and besides it’s kind of true.
*

Well I guess we better get the Love Suit on, O Who Ru.
It s Purgatory getting it to fit, Dr.

Ah! I stand up – and straighten, show backbone and nerve
Like a human, breathe oxygen, swivel and swerve.

But this suit is unearthly, plays tricks with my brain,
Only Judo Islamic Christ Love-Zen will serve.

And the training is purgatory, flesh is not fixed;
I’m a gay-straight, man-woman, black-Eskimo Serb.

I’m the Wandering Who at the bottom of hell.
I can’t Adam and Eve how my crossovers curve.

In this Inner Space love-suit, this Onesie fits All,
My identity shell cracks and heart hits a nerve.

Human being’s the grave-bed of wanting doing;
Love its flower and fragrance, lift off and surge.

Now I climb up this launch pad I’ve built for my craft
On this dying blue planet I’m pledged to conserve.

Middle wayfaring pilot, you’re programmed to fly
Seven planes to a love star no ‘I’ can observe.