Blackness.
Where am I?
This pitch-pallored place—
A veritable void—
Is all encompassing.
How did I end up here?
The charcoal chasm
Transmuting to ashen gray
As a faint light begins to
Glow from around—
From behind—
Me.
The darkness
Moves
As the light intensifies
Around me,
Fully
Enveloping me in its brilliance,
Light-emitting diode white.
Quite a painful sight at first—
Eyes adjusting—
I begin to see the black cavern
From which I am emerging.
The further distance grows
The more I can see
Another chasm
Symmetrically mirrored
Opposite from the one before me.
And just between and slightly beneath,
Another heart-shaped hole,
But inverted as if
The devil lent
Its gnarly
Design.
A heart,
Inverted
Like justice in
This dystopian world—
A diss on top of dysfunction—
Where power postulates the preposterous
Pomposity that presents itself for permanence.
Stillness comes with the light—
With
The
Light—
In this monumental moment.
The pause
Leaves me uncertain with
Certainty.
Do I prefer this permanence being presented
Pompously,
By postulating power,
And what might this portend?
The light’s impermanence
Sets me back in motion,
And the more distance
Gained,
The more I realize
That the “light” was just
More white,
A bony visage where light makes
Strange bedfellows with
Shadow
The skull before me,
In its white luminescence
Is very much enveloped by an expanse
Of the blackest nothingness one can see
This side of
Insanity.
As I stare at the stark skull,
It’s teeth—
Is that a smile?—
Clenched down in defiance of derision,
It will not be moved by my meaures
Of meaningless meanderings,
Promises propogated
By my pompous
And perilous
Propensity
To never
Follow
Through
On
What is
Just and right.
My complacency
Concocted by cascading
Conveniences that I am privileged—
I shiver at such a potentially revealing word—
Privileged
To
Have.
Unmoved,
This skull, my judge,
Stares me down as fire ignites—
Its eyes—
Those eyes pierce into me and I cannot look away.
The reality settling in, facing me with cold justice,
I come to the understanding that this—
No matter how much I think I am
Above—
Is my ultimate fate.
Nay, it is all our fates!
Death.
No matter how much power I possess,
No matter how much wealth I amass
No matter how many I see “beneath” me,
No matter who I hate,
No matter who I judge,
No matter who I live
Off of the backs of—
Death will have its way.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: March 12th, 2025 08:04
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy
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Comments6
Boy oh boy are you going into the darkness, but the write hits the nail on the head, doesn't matter how much you accumulate, how many things you do in life, you will die like the rest of us.the picture reminds me what i see behind me when I look in the mirror, enjoyed the read
Thank you so much, my friend. Yeah, the past couple have been on the dark side for sure. Indeed, I am glad that message came across. No matter what, in the end, we all die. What we believe does or doesn't happen after that...we all die. It's a cold, stark reality...one that can be beautiful but also frightening. For those who struggle in life, death can be a release...for those who have much to lose...it can feel like a robber and a thief. Either way, we die. And good morning, my friend! 🤣 I am such a cheery bloke today, aren't I? LOL! Thank you so much, Tobani, for the read and for getting it. Much appreciated my friend! 🐦⬛🖤
You are very welcome
Tristan this poem filled with delightful alliteration, anaphora, oxymoron irony, and a general dark flavor. It takes one on a journey of gray to the end of day. Lovely and well written my friend.
Thank you, Soren. Much appreciated, my friend! Glad it delivered! 🐦⬛🖤
Ahh, a poem about a trip to your mother-in-law! heehee.
😂 Knew you would relate, my friend!!! 😝
So I was right! heehee. 🙂
It's been said a death cult rules this planet.
Great write, Tristan.
Indeed! Thank you, my friend! 🖤🐦⬛
The darkness in this pieces leaps at you off the screen. A fine write.
"...all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;...the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom 3:23;6:23) Eerily sinister and rendered to effect with haunting imagery and a damning poignancy, thank you for sharing.
Indeed. I had Romans 6:23 loosely in mind as I was writing this. Thank you so much for your time and feedback my friend!
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