Perhaps it is
Nearly time
For me to
Put away
This dream

And forget
I ever suffered
At the hands
Of having
A choice

To change
What mind
Has stirred
In place
Of appearing decent

When assuming lines
Left scattered
Are this rare
Yet bold
Disease

Like an inconsistent
Means
Which compels
My broken
Wishes

For expressions
Once denoted
By a heart
With honest
Voice

Now caught
On second chance
Where this loss
Is that much
Greater

And demand
Its steeper incline
From these hills
I cannot
Scale

Speaking
While I can
Just to mount
One piercing
Summit

Among clouds
At soaring limits
Near the base
Of heavens
Close

As these phrases
Fall beneath
Toward that end
I cannot
Suffer

But reveal
Their gaping chasm
As an ache
Like open
Wounds

Remaining
Festered sores
Amid craters
Dark
And empty

Upon learning
Every surface
Is the hell
That always
Was

Seeing
Beyond fate
In this valley
Of our
Purpose

Looking down
Uncertain
My leap
Of faith
Will land.

– J. Pigno