the tempest destroyed
the church’s sanctuary.
its truth was too much;
it saw stark, evil devils
looking within the mirror.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 2, 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: October 2nd, 2026 10:11
- Comment from author about the poem: Part of the Truth, Applied collection.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Salvia.S, Paul Bell
- In collections: Truth, Applied.

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Comments9
Ah now this one can be taken two ways my friend. Were the devils residents welcome in the church before the destruction or did the church bring on the tempest to rid itself of them. A good read Tristan
Soren, much appreciated. That ambiguity is exactly the tension I hoped would remain. The tempest may be destruction, cleansing, exposure, or judgment...but whatever it is, the sanctuary cannot survive the truth unchanged. πͺβοΈπ€π
You are very welcome Tristan
Good write T. And now a horror story about spinach, knitting needles, and sabres. Or a film starring........ oh, we knows them! lol.
Orchi, yes indeed...we knows them! The moment the tempest hits, the mirror fogs, and the sabres come out, there is only one explanation: WCATEU has entered the horror genre. lol Whatβs WCATEU? WCAT, of course, Extended Universe. See? That answers everything, right? π€£πͺβοΈπ€π
Love the title " Hooking" the Looking Glass", not just looking. Like you're forcing it to see. The last 2 lines stayed with me. Well written dearest Tittu β€οΈ A fave πΉ
Thank you so much, dearest Salvia. My apologies for the delay...been a crazy week. Yes, that is exactly it: not merely looking into the glass, but dragging truth into view when the sanctuary would rather look away. I am honored this stayed with you. πͺβοΈπ€π
Black sabbath at Notre -Dame !
Lorenz, yes, and now I want the stained glass rattling while the guitars kick in and the devils realize the mirror has them dead to rights. π€£πͺβοΈπ€π
Most finely put my friend
Norman, I appreciate it. I wanted the poem to feel compact but cutting, as if the storm and mirror did not need many words to do their damage. πͺβοΈπ€π
achieved my friend
Devilishly dreadful indeed, hey you should know Steven King this is haunting. πΉ
Teddy, thank you, dear Teddy. If Stephen King would even glance twice at this little storm-soaked mirror, I would take that as a grand compliment. Iβm so glad the haunting came through for you. πͺβοΈπ€π
Historically, institutional hypocrisy trumps religion itself. What makes it so intense is that the primary internal mechanism of religion is the most intimate expression of the inner self in both personal and societal milieus.
Rik, very well said. When religionβs most intimate language is used to preserve denial, the sanctuary itself becomes part of the wound. That is the kind of truth the mirror refuses to soften. πͺβοΈπ€π
I suppose when you start with the basis, everyone is forgiven, it opens the door to the dark.
In saying that, the church has looked after itself for thousands of years, and you don't do that without someone dying.
aul, yes...that is the dark door this piece is staring through. Forgiveness can become holy when it heals, but it becomes dangerous when institutions use it to excuse themselves while others pay the price. πͺβοΈπ€π
It reminds me of the parable of the tares.
I do believe our forefathers used nursery rhymes to ween the children though.
ValiantStar, thank you. The parable of the tares fits this well: what grows inside the holy field is not always holy itself. The mirror simply refuses to let the mixture stay hidden. πͺβοΈπ€π
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