This quiet
And tired gray
Whispers rain
From boredom
Beneath what veil
Can answer
In the dark
Of lingering clouds

Which fail
As listless veins
Whose fallen blood
Translucent
Denotes our pleasures
Missing
Behind that sun
Obscured

Where daylight
Measures fate
With proof of life
Uncertain
Still hiding now
Among us
Between these hours
Pale

Lost like
Private stars
Shining hope
Through freedom
Unknown to those
Who seek them
But bright
If felt for sure

When mapping
Empty skies
Dim from lacking
Purpose
Yet streaked across
Their vastness
Concealing God
Within

Masking
Heaven’s place
Amid these downpours
Heavy
While tears
Bring revelations
On afternoons
So bleak.

– J. Pigno