There is something...

There is this void.
Its yearning is spent in solace
Its yearning is felt in melancholy.
Words are brought to the lips to explain,
but what is explained when the heart lives in rage?

There is this void.
Moments are spent in its coming
Days are dedicated in its worship.
The heart purified for its awaited visit,
but what will come to the one, whoes life is dedicated to this?

There is this void.
For what it is worth
Let the madness absorb one.
What absorbs is relief,
such is the path to content when all else fails, surely?