{ – noise – }

parades go by with all their noise,
reports come in with hue and cry,
the quiet ones just hide away,
as from life’s tight’ning grasp they’d pry

the sacred from the venal mess –
the verities from what’s unreal –
for noise does not a mission make,
    and some do not need clamor just

    to feel

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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