In fact
It was always
Simple
This plan we seem
To destroy

With our need
For achieving
Something
Other than what
Should exist

Innately
As it is made
From ether
Unknown
To insistence

Of standards
Imposed
By creatures
Subject to will
Of their God –

That ease
Of inspiring
Ripples
Cast without
Intervention

Across
Such space
Everlasting
Beyond what fate
We redeem,

Incurring
Countless debts
As there are
New stars
Born among us

Finding truth
In their brightness
As we navigate
Dust
Over time

Imagining
Destiny waits
Where emptiness
Pines
For forgiveness

Forgetting
This cosmos suffers
Each moment
We waste
On success.

– J. Pigno