It isn’t for me,
It’s become plain to see.
Never was, never will be—
This world, from land to sea.
So, hear this, my fever plea,
Pitched out—flying free—
Even if we don’t agree,
I’m gone—gone—see?
I’m no rooted tree.
It’s plain to see,
It isn’t for me.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, January 17, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: January 17th, 2026 09:07
- Comment from author about the poem: Necromancy Sublime is now officially out and available on all major (and most minor) streaming platforms. Along with Crucible, it’s part of Dark Alchemy, my forthcoming album under the project name TragicLife. Listen wherever you stream: https://open.spotify.com/track/1hq7j8OZjye2P3zATczSWT?si=76c3f8a716e64ce3
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments6
Often wondered if it would be better if we were all rooted. We would have our place know our neighbors and family. Not have to worry so much about change but then we would not be able to travel see new things and heaven forbid that there be a fire or flood unable to save ourselves or help others. A most interesting piece my friend. Nicely done
Soren, this is such a thoughtful engagement. The image of being rooted holds beauty and danger at once…belonging, family, place, but also the inability to flee or help when disaster comes. That is a true tension, indeed. I’m grateful for how fully you stepped into it, my friend. 🌳🌫️🕊️🙏
You are most welcome my friend
It's not for me / us, Popeye. The spinach, I mean! lol.
And how. Swoon! 🤮 Swoon again!
The mortgage, the 2.2 children, suburbia, the picket fence, who wouldn't want that.
Got a feeling half the world doesn't want it, the wife divorcing the husband, the kids divorcing the parents.
You can see why people disappear now.
Paul, this lands hard. You strip the ideal down to its fractures…the promise sold versus the reality lived. That sense of disappearance is less like escape and more like inevitability. I appreciate the way you frame it, my friend. Thank you for naming that so plainly. 🌳🌫️🕊️🙏
Echoes of a time from a much younger me- before having up and flown. So much nostalgia in brevity🕊️🙏🏻
My friend, this really moves me. That sense of a younger self standing on the edge before flight carries so much weight beneath the surface. I’m grateful you felt that nostalgia in it. Have you ever heard the song, Roots, my Alice Merton? Wish I had thought of this when I posted, but your comment reminded me of it. I will pair it above upon posting this comment. 👆Thank you again, my friend. Much appreciated! 🌳🌫️🕊️🙏
Yes! A perfect fit🕊️🙏🏻
Indeed! ☺️
A clean, aching goodbye—simple on the surface, but heavy with resolve.
The repetition lands like footsteps walking away, steady and final.
Thomas, this is a generous and precise reading. The simplicity carries real weight, the repetition moves like steady steps, and the goodbye isn’t loud…it’s decided. I’m grateful for how attentively you met the poem. 🌳🌫️🕊️🙏
A poem written with wonderfully reserved rhythm, emotional and sensible...
cellinic, this is a generous reading. The restraint, the emotion, and the sensibility all have to coexist for the poem to work, and you named that beautifully. I’m grateful for how attentively you met it. 🌳🌫️🕊️🙏
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.