I can never
Just seem
To wait
Or savor
A fleeting
Instant
As if time
Itself
Is a challenge
Or affront
To the fact
I exist

Believing
I’ll never
Sit still
To ignore
What fears
Remain looming
Low
Like clouds
Among gestures
Grim
As fate
Overhead

Between
Such lines
Once traced
By the hand
Of heavens
Indifferent
Now drawn
As a sullen
Reminder
All lives
And days
Must pass.

– J. Pigno