Pantographs

Dreaming big, they all move in, much of their comfort shunned

As they join the crowds in the city that’s always on the run

In a life defined by just two directions in which one may roam

Many optimistic millions have made this place their home

The pantograph rises and touches the power line above the rake

Breathing life into the lifeline of the city perceived to be forever awake

In the city of money, where excess has struck like a drought

They act as the leveler between the haves and the haves-not

Ageing, plagued by dust and rust and a lack of breathing space

They rush through the urban wasteland, exuding an aura of grace

Nature sends signs that humans really do need to learn

But unperturbed by everything else, the wheels continue to turn

Whether it’s about the journey is just a matter of perception,

But this mundane one is all about reaching the destination

A moment too late, and they’re escaping too fast to reach with a sprint and a leap,

But another set of pantographs comes rolling along in the city that never sleeps