I wouldn’t trust
Your doctor
Or a man who says
He knows
Like some god
Whose test is failure
For the chance
Of rare success

From prayers
Not often answered
By caplets
Swallowed weakly
In mouths
With spoiled senses
Where silence
Dulls their taste

To ensure
Such little faith
Within these souls
Left desperate
At the hands of lies
Transparent
As one pill
Which fixes fast

What pasts
Are left unsettled
And dreams
Still barely noticed
When truth
Is an absent footnote
On studies
Peer-reviewed

While theory
Holds no weight
If pain
Empirically proven
Drives our science
Hopeful
Without its need
For proof

Believing numbers
Yield
To realities
Unexpected
Being glorious
Tools of heaven
Through each change
Ambition makes.

– J. Pigno