Stationary and Planned

Immoderate sufferage
Meticulous striving
Completely worthless
Consumed by materialism again
Consumed by theirselves again
Barely inching
Stationary by standards
Shrinking below the sides of towers
Then they shrink
Because all of it is nothing
The epiphany of the hour
The toast to ancient capitals of before
Birds chirping, waiting turns, back and forth
Falling in line with rhythm and cadence
At the small creeping pace
With all those "pioneers"
Identical pride
Beakers of science
Are they beacons of hope
Idealism and fresh vision of youth
What new worlds will they see and make unfold