There is poetry
Missing in action
While enduring life
As it comes
With each flagrant truth
Feeling stifled
Like a voice unheard
From afar

When whispered gifts
On the wind
Losing memories
Fleetingly joyous
Let their transient hopes
Kindle embers 
Like an angry flame
Needing cause

Near those distant cliffs
Where we leap
Upon growing numb
Getting older
Still beckoning words
For our killing
Into raging hells
Seeking God

Or at least some pain
So they burn
Like surrounding trees
Dropping branches
Now scattering ash
Across forests
Once beautiful woods
Standing tall

Wasting autumn
Facing man’s blaze
Charring colorful leaves
Hiding gospel
Under canopies
Inspiring greatness
But ignoring art
Before death

Always absent
After this match
Lights that single spark
Knowing meaning
Inherently bold
Outside nature
Defeats what muse
Seasons bring.

• J. Pigno