Brief stints of silence
Cradle the frantic mind
Soothing the timeless bustle of men
Striding nowhere
For nothing at all

In these revered
And waning moments
Some dare to weave
And color the bleakest void

Some dare endeavor
To fill the deepest chasms
With the fabric of themselves
As a final and solemn sacrifice

But the world turns away
And we do what we must
Amidst the stream of mayhem
The daily whirl of shrapnel and peril

Some briefly pull away
For the foremost whim
They’ve foolishly forgone
Enamored by their tiresome roles