The room is white like bone,
An inverted calvaria of space
Filled with emptiness erratic.
Alone here, unclear, I sit.
The ceramic walls glow ghostly
In ghastly onyx hues,
The black pitch luminance
Clouds my eyes insight like ash.
“Where am I?” a voice asks—
It’s my voice, disembodied—
Infiltrating my ears from within
My own cranial construct.
Silence.
The silence is deafening
As my own thoughts and fears
Echo within this chamber of bone.
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: October 26th, 2024 15:41
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
A most interesting inside view. Meditation from the inside out. Lovely
Thank you! I I am glad it resonated!
Good write T.
Thank you so much! I am glad you liked it!
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