as it fades—
diminishing
lowering, depleting
to a thin line
before the advent
of opaque oblivion—
the soul sinks
knowing this light
could be
its
last.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, September 30, 2026.
Tittu
+++
Coming this Macabre Monday:
DEVILISHLY DREADFUL
The Boy Detective;
or, the Crimes of the Collective
on October 5, 2026
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: September 30th, 2026 07:55
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by VNV Nation’s song, “As It Fades.” Part of The Thinking Dark collection.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Teddy.15
- In collections: The Thinking Dark.
Offline)
Comments8
Such fear of death and the desperate clinging to life emphasized by this write. Well done Tristan
Soren, thank you. That fear is definitely breathing through this one: the awful awareness of how fragile the light can become when it starts narrowing toward the unknown. I appreciate you reading it so closely. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
You are most welcome my friend
Opaque oblivion, that seems to be where it's at!
arqios, much appreciated. That phrase became the poem’s horizon for me: the place where the last line of light disappears into what cannot be seen through. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
Mans fear at the unknown
Norman, much appreciated. There is something deeply human in that fear, especially when the fading begins and certainty gives way to silence. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
OMG, not the computer.
If it dies, I die too.
Do people get buried with their computers these days. Is that allowed.
Paul, my apologies for the delay...been a crazy week. Exactly...the modern soul’s final tether may very well be a charging cable. And honestly, if computers start going in the coffin, I hope someone at least remembers the password. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
Ain't nothing fading about certain spinach guzzling, knitting, and sabre wielding! Why not? WCAT!
Orchi, well, that settles it: when the light grows thin, we send in the spinach guzzler, the knitter, and the sabre wielder. WCAT may be the strangest survival plan yet, but I am oddly comforted. 🤣 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
That famous line! Whether it's that that we don't cross or the thin one What a wonderful. A provocative creation you have 🌹 Wonderful dear Tristan.
Teddy, my apologies for the delay...been a crazy week. Thank you, dear Teddy. I wanted the poem to feel like standing before that final edge, where the light narrows and the soul knows something immense is close. I am grateful you felt the provocation in it. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
Hello, Tristan,
At the fading of the day will the morn on the morrow greet me once more, 'till then the fear. Such a wonderfully composed poem, succinct and yet august. Excellent!
Fond regards,
Tony.
Tony, I truly appreciate this. The poem lives in that uncertain space between evening and whatever comes next, where hope and fear seem to hold the same breath. Thank you for reading it with such care. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
Who knows? Good Write.
Kevin, thank you. That question is really the center of it: who knows what waits when the light thins, or whether another dawn is waiting on the other side. I appreciate you reading. 🌅🌑🕯️🙏
My Pleasure as always.
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