among the bustle of clacking heels
and conversations through frequencies
speaking to someone
you will never meet, nor care to
they sway in the midst
of cemented construction
determined to uphold unforeseen judgement
they are of rats, fussing for crumbs
nibbling on social order
dictating instincts of survival
they shuffle, bustle and hustle
to destinations near and far

however, in this carnage
there is a moment between

it is a moment
lasting, only a few
where an action
disrupts this daily migration
it can be as simple
as a bird floating into view
or as tragic as death

it is that moment between
the bustle and the action
where we find emptiness
a truly euphoric state