Tristan Robert Lange

Snow Globe

There’s always been

Fear

Here—

A globe of glass

Flooded—

Speckles

That shimmer and sparkle,

That glimmer and drift,

That flutter and sway,

But never

Away—

They stay.

Fears.

Here.

The globe is

All-

Encompassing—

We’re miniature snow figurines

Destined to be shaken,

To repeat this endless routine

Of beauty and excitement,

Of fading hopes,

Dying dreams—

Death falls

Magnificent.

Anticipation

Of antipathy

Knots itself inside

The pitted innards

Of acrimonious animosity

Toward the bastard children

Of willfully ignorant expressions.

Their fears—

Ever

Here.

Packed within

The crystalline globe

Together—

In the globe,

Continuously confined—

To be imprisoned impotents

In permanent poses,

Stuck

Here

In fear.

© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.