I keep having
A different dream
Each time my eyes dare
Like shutters
To obscure what light
Seeks windows
Which disturbs
Such rest
With a view

Where visions
Of an altered past
Pierce through its lens
Come morning
When my losses
Change
Along fractures
As traveling rifts
In this glass

From distant lies
So bright
Whose fissured truth
Unstable
Reveals
Their golden flashes
Among scenes
Left cold
And tense

Packing warmth
Off stars
On a mission
Bound
For answers
Behind this sleep
Exploding
Around orbits
Chasing death

Near fears
Still floating close
Across spacious dark
Imagined
Before that sun
Come morning
Sneaks past
These thinning
Lines.

– J. Pigno