Tristan Robert Lange

whiteout

isolation’s irony falls,

flurrying fast—

flying phantom flakes—

in a sea of glitter white.

the colorless glare

an endless void—

sightless growing glow—

filled with the echoes

of the unaware,

guarded ghosts,

and demonstrably

defiant demons

determined

to deny a

welcoming

space.

why?

First published on tristanrobertlange.com, December 30, 2025.

Tittu