We’re prone
To suffering falls
So routine
Yet unexpected
Like that step
Which always misses
Just before
Our feet can dance

And land
What gesture yields
Like scenarios
Once envisioned
At those moments
Life seems fragile
Hearing music
Guide that crash

Believing
Every slip
Is the note
God somehow blunders
Proving errors
Being random
Are the fears
Most often chanced

If resisting
Early death
Or its grip
Upon these shoulders
Standing pretty
With its partner
Serenading
While they wait

For their turn
To be less tense
Than long waltzes
Grown religious
Like disaster
Without planning
Joining marches
Called defeat

Thinking movement
Can convince
Expiration
From advancing
Across ballrooms
Hushed and ready
Poised yet pretty
Treading fate

Bringing hazards
On themselves
When avoiding
Human error
Spinning madly
Lacking caution
Though this blood
Holds certain risks

Finding gaffes
Gone unforeseen
Chasing hymns
Which deafen reason
Where perception
Beckons failure
Despite warnings
Too damn late.

– J. Pigno