In wonder thereat we stare upward at the stones
Piled high as monument to the speeches of demigods
Obsessed with where we should be heading, a race
Defined by concerns of machinery instead of spirit.
Machinations in the chase for development supreme
Ride over and above our path to the tip of the tower
Of Babel, voices crossed and blended into a whole,
Subsumed by a medium made subtly intrusive.
The towers reign on high, monsters of metal signals
Beaming out their wares, sentinels acting for purveyors
Of the torrid worlds held inside electronic storms,
Kept alive by minds ever resting on the same topics.