Tristan Robert Lange

Give and Take

I have heard it said,

“The LORD giveth

and the LORD taketh

away.”

The LORD, a title

In the place of a

Foreign name,

Spelled in captials

As if it were

Screamed out

At bystanders

From manacing

Megaphones.

The name,

Consonants

Without Vowels,

Yet, what is not seen,

What is not visible,

Is heard.

Strange, is it not,

That the invisible is heard,

While the visible

Goes used yet unseen,

There yet unheard,

Present yet Ignored?

The LORD.

Who is the LORD?

Who is my LORD?

Questions linger

In the morning gray,

Over a ground

Frosty frozen.

Death sparkles

In the silent

Daybreak.

Who has my LORD been

But the one who

Exerted

Power

Over me.

The one who

Showed me love,

Who gave me but a

Foretaste

Of life

Never to be afforded

To me.

My LORD

Was the one who
Welcomed me,

Took me in,

Accepted me,

Empowered me

To produce life

Under the guise

Of Love.

My LORD

Was the one who

Made good use

Of me

Until I was no longer

Useful;

Discarded are

Hearts heavy with

Lust’s deceit.

A fool of hope

Adrift on a sea of separation,

Seclusion is home

For my love’s sequestration.

My LORD giveth a bit,

But has taken much away.

After all these pages,

All these chapters,

All these tales,

And after

Everything

I don’t have

To show for it all,

It appears I have been worshipping

The wrong lord.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.