A thoughtless moment of idle time stood between two shadows,

As a messenger arrived to give his sermon on the virtues of his woes.

And though the congregation was quiet and unmoved

The messenger grew stronger with each word his mouth drew.

 

He spoke of an idle time when he walked a bridge burning,

Set alight by his own hands, wondering why no soul walked with him.

He spoke of selling beads he crafted in wicked sleep

Beads that woke his thoughts to misery, he inflicted upon the weak.

 

He spoke of a gnarled, twisted tree that hung his visions high

And he spoke of a dried up lake, where shepherds once came to lie.

And as he wept, his soul it fell, and shattered on the rock

Before a silent congregation, who only whispered as he talked.

 

He turned his back, with bloody feet, and disappeared in the hills

A silent voice whispered, though the night had broken still:

“When you lose something more important than your life,

Only blame or strength can replace the memory of idle time.”