A Peaceful Place.

I have no way to leave some small dim sign,  
hidden amongst eight billion people  
saying that yes, I too lived, loved and sighed,  
or writ feeble rhyme, here, more enfeebled.  
   
Trying to achieve small recognition,  
almost hopeless within this heaving mass,  
perhaps in the life that is yet to come  
I shall rise up, and will all these surpass...  
   
But in this world of screaming dervishes    
this awful constant shriek and gross babble    
I can't find that sweet peace which nourishes    
I guess all seek peace and call all else, rabble?  
 
Ah, well, I guess I'll find that peaceful place  
Just as soon as I have quit this rat race.