Some stones
Are merely
Cast

From the time
Our chance
Has rippled

Beyond
What hand
Is waving

Those rocks
We seem
To throw

When tossed
In waters
Deep

By their true
And failing
Message

Whose rage
Is always
Honest

But the hardest
Choice
We make

So they sink
Like broken
Dreams

Where the means
Have fallen
Victim

To the lies
Left floating
Gently

Behind
On brackish
Swells

When ponds
Are oceans
Vast

Within
These empty
Spaces

Hollowed
While we
Narrate

Creation
Through our
Hands

From channels
Lined
With grief

Among thick
And drowned
Expressions

Claiming
Life is
Easy

With pebbles
Dense
As weights

For In fact
I’ve served
No fate

Other
Than daring
Purpose

Gifted
With certain
Struggles

At the corner
Of sudden
Death

To ask me
What
I am

As I’ll tell you
Faith
Is worthless

Cause hope
Can never
Surface

Or survive
On borrowed
Time.

– J. Pigno