the void
is expansive beyond all comprehension
the abyssal umbral reign of Erebus
obscures all senses
after all
what’s to taste
what’s to smell
what’s to touch
what’s to hear
what’s to see
nay what exists in the Stygian void
a long thin ethereal crack bursts
radiant rays reverse the void’s tenebrous touch
its hold hampered by hallelujahs
breaking through silence
it
re-
verb-
er-
ates
as the l i g h t e x p a n d s
it becomes clear
the void is but shadow
beneath which life still exists in slumber
like seedlings buried deep beneath volcanic ash
the sprout shoots
push upward and emerge
bright green on porous ashen gray
the light now an orb
a window to blinding brilliance
painfully pleasant and alluring to behold
there is a season for everything
says the ancient philosopher king
a time to laugh a time to cry
a time to live and a time to die
here and now it is time to rise
and here’s the real surprise
when one steps into the light
they will see that the truth
was there with them
intact and intent
unhindered by the shadow
unhampered by the snake delivering death’s blow
and it is then one will learn
that beyond what we think we know
perfection wasn’t ever required
just openness to grow and stay inspired
to let love transform and spiral lives into orbit
around the light’s blinding sphere
and though it feels like fire
friend
have no fear
death is a liar
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: April 20th, 2025 07:14
- Category: Unclassified
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Comments4
Oh wow, feels like a progression from the last poem. Keep 'em coming 🙏🏻🕊️
Indeed, my friend. In fact, the progression began with "the agony" on Thursday, moved through "a skull called place", then "holy nothing", and now culminates in this piece. I'm so glad you picked up on the arc—it's most obvious when reading yesterday’s and today’s back-to-back.
The idea was to mirror Jesus’s Passion, placing the reader inside his psyche—without ever naming Christ. That choice opens up the suffering to be internalized by the reader. Instead of reading about Christ’s suffering, they encounter their own. For those who don’t see the spiritual connection, that’s okay—the poem still works. But for those who do, there are subtle clues, and I hope they feel deeply rewarded.
Thank you for your close reads and for picking up on these recurring themes. Truly makes my day (and night). I hope you had a most excellent Easter, my friend! 🙏🏻🌌🌅🌱💡
How appropriate for the day. This poem through the mouths of ancient Greeks to Ecclesiastes archetypes and bible images appear. A fun use of space in this text adds flavor. Very nicely don my friend.
Powerful work.
There's three -umbras thingys, I discovered. Dunno what they are exactly, so I will stop before I dig myself into a hole and become a jibbering wreck! lol.
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