These days
On silver knots
Are a long and tangled
Mess

Precious
As they are brilliant
Across long
And shimmering lines

Where threads
Get snarled by fear
From the hooks
We always carry

Catching lives
Mistaken
For dreams once thought
Our own –

That sudden pain
Unseen
Or breath which
Barely seizes

What air
Has cost us greatly
Just speaking truth
Out loud

While wasting time
With dread
So feelings
Pass discretely

And bliss
Of captive moments
Eludes this choice
We make

To remain content
Near death
At the brink
Of heaven’s waiting

When faith
Has quiet answers
For questions
Too damn bold

Our troubled souls
Predict
Through pain
Perceived as needed

In bodies
Fallen victim
Growing old
Not staying still,

Losing semblance
Of their faith
Along meaning
Once unraveled

After sinning
Without reason
Besides hoping
They come loose.

– J. Pigno