Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read 👓, Write ✍️, Rise 🌅, Realize 🤯.
Tristan 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read 👓, Write ✍️, Rise 🌅, Realize 🤯.
Tristan 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
the interruption of decay
(unformatted text)
it is
prepared,
may its contents
be ever pleasing,
Duamutef.
this
jar—vessel—
holds hapy, full of air,
to sustain your
journey.
this
cylinder is
filled with imesty
for cleansing
beyond.
hail
Qebehsenuef!,
who will help us
digest our
shit.
I,
a-
nubis,
lord of the under-
world, am
here…see!
i control the whole ritual.
incisions
have been made,
haw removed—preserved—
contained within canopic jars.
what's left? natron of course.
pack the body full of coarse salt
to pull all of the damp moisture
out of the shell to be preserved.
now the allotted time for drying—dehydration—
to work its wilderness wiles within a rotting corpse.
in time the flesh shrinks, shrivels, and the skin tightens.
nothing is done until the shell is drained of all of its fluids.
this is the finality o fevery mortal fear—the end of autolysis.
the interruption of the expected—decay doubly destroyed
by the masters of mind, meaning, mystery, and the most
macabre messaging to be found within this world of won-
ders. yet this is not the end of the process—no!—for no
artisan should ever for get the resin, the bitumen, the
humectant to keep all of the life-preserving mosisture
within, so that all of its essence might carry one
beyond the detailed fingers of masterworkers
whose due diligence made all of it possible.
time will pass, ages and tragedies will pass,
events and countless mysterys will unfold,
and the wisdom held here within this vessel
will remain constant, unchanged, and ready
to haunt all who dare to open its jars and
seek what can be found within the sar-
cophagus waiting to reanimate, to rise,
to begin to move and walk its way back
into a world that had long forgotten it
had ever even existed. for the power-
ful, this will be a curse upon them all;
yet, for the meek, for those who seek
freedom from the chains of conformity,
this and all living works, wrapped in textual
binding, will find within the key to what it means to try.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, May 4, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: May 4th, 2026 09:04
- Comment from author about the poem: Part of The Thinking Dark collection.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Salvia.S, Friendship, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS
- In collections: The Thinking Dark.
Offline)
Comments7
The sarcophagus shape hits before i even read a word. The clinical brutality of pack the body full of coarse salt to pull all of the damp moisture out next to wrapped in textual binding makes the whole piece feel like you're mummifying language itself. Very well written dearest Tittu ❤️ a fave 🌹
Salvia…that means a lot, truly. I am so stoked the shape grabbed you right away. You caught exactly what I was going for with that tension between body and language. It felt like something that needed to be preserved and dissected at the same time…so hearing you read it that way hits. Always grateful for you, dearest friend. 🧂⚰️🙏🖤
Okay, I need a nap after reading this one, Tristan. Well written. Your poem "The Interruption of decay" explores themes of mortality, preservation, and the cyclical nature of life and death. It delves into the ancient Egyptian practice of mummification and the spiritual significance of preserving the body for the afterlife. The poet, identified as Anubis, the god of the underworld, emphasizes the meticulous rituals involved in preparing the deceased for their journey beyond death.
Friendship, haha…if it leaves you needing a nap, I’ll take that as a win. This one definitely leans heavy into the ritual and the weight of it all. I’m glad it carried through for you…means a lot that you sat with it. Appreciate you, my friend. 🧂⚰️🙏🖤
Popeye thinking dark? Or thinking only of spinach?! lol.
Orchi…now I’m just picturing Popeye embalming spinach for the afterlife 😂 “Preserve the greens, they shall rise again!” You know he’d still be flexing in the tomb. 😂🤣 🧂⚰️🙏🖤
Tristan this breaths philosopher's stone from alchemy and in the word shaped apothecary jar. It is dark and full or the humors of body fluids and speaks to the belief that transmutation can be achieved through magical means. Well done my friend
Soren, I really appreciate that read…there’s definitely that alchemical thread running through it, even if it’s buried under all the rot and ritual. The idea of transformation…of something being carried through process into something else entirely…that’s right at the core of it. Grateful for your insight as always, my friend. 🧂⚰️🙏🖤
Always a pleasure my friend
Well done. You put a lot of effort in to this one.
Katie, thank you…that really means a lot. This one indeed took some time, so I’m glad that effort came through. Appreciate you taking a moment with it. 🧂⚰️🙏🖤
Hurray, I read it like the legend below, on the first go as well! Very intuitive layout, there. At least to my style of visual engagement. 🕊️🙏🤩
arqios, that’s awesome to hear…especially that the order clicked on the first go. Knowing it flowed naturally for you is huge. Really appreciate you engaging with it, my friend. 🧂⚰️🙏
Most welcome Tittu🤩🕊️🙏
Powerful and vivid. Sharp.
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