and then those days roll in like Summer storms. 

thunder so loud, 

yet welcome distraction from the silence of all alone.

and rain –

heavy as black in a midnight sky.

it seems,

in those moments of oppression, 

there is no hope.

what purpose faith in a faceless god?

surely there is no recompense earned merely from ritual of believe.

peace –

you proclaim.

comfort from the pain. 

but somehow – 

when –

remains unknown.

and as you kneel to offer prayer for salvation, 

voices whisper eulogies to care. 

in those days, 

when life becomes just too much to bear,

you realize how it feels –

becoming undone. 

what then? 

if compassion serves purpose – 

glue to mend the broken – 

and the cupboard bare, 

do the pieces of promise just get swept away? 

sometimes, 

no matter our intention,

we end up unassigned –

unnecessary as the refuse of was,

thrown with deliberation,

into  the insignificance of – not...