Death appears
Outside of shadows
We mistake
For a permanent darkness
Inevitably reached
By these journeys
Intersecting at ends
All the same,
Those beaten routes
Never found
But somehow walked
Seeking meaning
Along old roads
Always dirtied
With grit underneath
Every sole
Getting kicked up now
Close behind
When following strides
Nearly faithful
To travelers there
Well before us
Where experience
Gathers like dust –
Such sinful specks
Falling down
Below tall trees
Blocking sunlight
So their shining rays
Become symbols
Pointing towards God
Almost seen
If staring real hard
Between leaves
Among lost trails
Housed in forests
Each life must pace
Going forward
While still showing guilt
Looking back,
Believing how lines
Choose our fates
Through footprints left
Across decades
Spent wandering days
Fearing judgment
Rather than tracing
This path.
- J. Pigno