there existed
a man
who struggled
deeply—profoundly—
with his
own
nature—naturally.
he was young,
enkindled,
and rebellious
for rebellion’s sake.
wildness aside,
he was an incredible,
i
n
t
e
l
l
i
gent, master of
spoken word,
a mountain climber
having scaled ambition’s summit
he found it shallow—
a cesspool of cadaverous creations—
and he made his descent
to humbler peaks.
there, beyond his own mother’s,
he heard a singluar
voice—a child’s
ch-ch-chaaanting:
take and read
take and read
take and read
take and read
a bible—
what he read?—
life changing.
sadly,
as people are want to do—
he dropped everything,
all his sins, big and small,
but for his pride.
his reflections became
doctrine divine;
his words weapons
against difference,
and even against
unbaptized innocence.
how many fathers
and mothers
marred mercilessly
by this master’s
miserable indictment
on their children—
kinderfeld housed—
unsplashed?
how many nations
negated, or worse,
destroyed
by this proud man’s tale?
how many souls scattered
because of a master
manipulated by his own
preposterous pride?
a sinner, not unique
but original
in his uniquness,
clutching proud pearls
to be passed down
countless generations
to the gospel’s gluttons.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Tittu
Poet’s Note:
This poem is not a rejection of sin or its impact on humanity; rather, this is a critique of a single man’s interpretation that significantly expanded a classic doctrine and codified that expansion as Biblical truth—moving far beyond what Scripture itself attests, with very damning results over the last sixteen centuries.
Tristan Robert Lange 
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