Tell me
All about angels
In the song of your
Every step
As a blessing
Heard distinctly
Within
What melody drifts

Across
These gleaming stars
Beneath
Our private moonlight
Where chirps
Like long sonatas
Begin
Each nightly ball

Stringing
Nature’s sounds
Into woven hymns
From gestures
Too real
To be dishonest
When trailing
Every path

We walk
With shuffled feet
And turn
From nearly dancing
Praising God
This instant
Is a tune
Which never lasts

For more
Than beating dusk
To a change
Of quiet mornings
Ushering
Frequent silence
So the rhythm
Hides its pulse

Amid
Such sheltered days
And people deaf
To dreaming
Or love that’s losing
Anthems
Between each poison
Sun

Defeating
Sacred voice
On terms
Of bright deceptions
Obscuring notes
From glaring
Its beam
Of focused lies

Ignoring
Soulful dark
Like jazz
Of lost romantics
Tangoing
As we wander
Among shadows
Lost and found.

No saint
Can ever waltz
Without that guilt
Of knowing

All truth
Is raw expression
Black
As rawest dark.

– J. Pigno