I believe
It’s just a bad gamble
To spend one’s time
By a purpose

Which shows no proof
Of existing
When suffering wins
Every day –

Now the constant
Greater than death
Through survival
Failed after trying

While acknowledging
Faith never matters
If hope means
Helping ourselves

Since God alone
Never cares
Or perhaps can’t show
How He’s fighting

Behind these scenes
Growing darker
Where easy ways out
Have appeal,

Like an illness
Taking us down
And eating what’s left
We remember

Though starved inside
For such beauty
Only art somehow
Still provides.

That true poetry
Never will cease
As long as breath
May imbue me

With feelings pain
Does encourage
Through experience
Humans endure.

All vocations
Must disappoint
Holding empty roles
People squander.

Their ambition kills
Real intention
Rolling dice
On passionless dreams.

• J. Pigno