I find meaning
In narrow spaces

And the holes
Where darkness settles

Like silhouettes
Blanketing corners
So comfortably drab
And confined,

As shadows parade
During nights
When emptiness shapes
Certain figures
Reflecting our own
Without feelings
Or defining lines
Never drawn –

Lacking plans
But colorless forms,

Stealing proof
From faithless existence,

While these breathless husks
Suffer madness
Attempting this life
Once again.

Being blessed
Is getting too cramped,

Still begging for words
Silence wishes
Was crying those names
Barely uttered –

Becoming what peace
Truth ignores.

Under blankets
Nothing can hurt
Since blindness bears
Sullen graces,

Like death
Before candles extinguish
Behind both eyes
Fearing light.

Things burn
How passions will change,

Hiding further dreams
Gently crawling,

Towards sad relief
Slowly choking
On damaged minds
Hiding wicks –

Such gifted sparks
Between blankest walls
Growing tighter,

Under dusty shelves
Pain has covered
Holding burning books
Far beneath.

All smothered flames
Fade away,

Though some endure
Dancing wildly –

Leaving ash
Despite suffocation,

Lingering still
Yet enclosed.

  • J. Pigno

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