I think I’ll go
To that place
Where there’s truth
In no one caring
At the feet
Of good intentions
When my worship
Starts as fear

Feeling anxious
While I bend
Out of reverence
For the desperate
Being victim
To what’s lonely
During moments
Lacking prayer

Finding quiet
Offers grace
If that silence
Means obsessing
Over passions
More than righteous
Like my anger
Lost on words

Through each mass
I often wait
Seeking guidance
Beyond gestures
Nodding heads
And bowing gently
Shaking hands
Which aren’t there

But admitting
Pain is worse
Since divinity
Long neglected
Preached forgiveness
To its servants
Without purpose
Even seen

Barely heard
Yet showing strength
Lifting spirits
By rejection
As I kneel
Toward fallen altars
Proving sadness
Has a church

Making failure
With some fate
I’d not intended
Sitting idly
Near this window
Staring blindly
Seeking faith

Lost to God
Whose heart is rain
And His love
One final rainbow
Lasting briefly
During daylight
Covered softly
With new clouds

Still the promise
Till that lie
Becomes a purpose
Growing meaning
Within soil
Wasting fate
On better storms

Carrying answers
Best dismissed
Like my service
Since compared
To other humans
Whose old meaning
Misses dreams.

– J. Pigno


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