Rivers of the Underground: Cocytus

Alas, formidable river, Cocytus. Nor baptism nor deluge washed clean my soul. No interest, no profit paid my debts. Here a sinner, I am, carried by this stream of consciousness, a frozen soul. If life is treacherous, nothing so compared to Hades. What priceless joy I thought to last forever, now lifts me from these misers? The price of passage, little, I would exchange all the happiness in life. Who can say they know the currents of the Cocytus? At the center, buried to my waist, the traitors of self, at the navel of being three faces, the father, the son, and the spirit. The surface of Cocytus a mirror that reflects the image of god, the self that could have been, and the horrific eyes, most feared by all, forced to look away in eternity.