From These Heights

"From these heights, what weight do their lives hold?" 

From my vantage, high in towers of steel and glass, 

I see the masses, their efforts seem so small, 

Their purpose served, unseen in the grand affair. 

A sea of faces, each a cog in society's grand design, 

Lives bound by duties, each playing their part, 

Worthless yet needed, for without them, what then? 

Chaos perhaps, for each is vital to the whole's heart. 

"From these heights, what weight do their lives hold?" 

Through the lens of wealth, their struggles trivial, 

Tiny ripples in the vast ocean of existence, 

Yet each ripple marks the world, however dilute.

Beneath my gaze, the fabric of society weaves, 

Structured, functional, each thread intertwined, 

Worthless alone, but together mighty, 

A complex dance of lives, their roles meticulously told. 

"From these heights, what weight do their lives hold?" 

Their little woes, their joys, an insignificance, 

Detached yet bound by the same societal threads, 

I remain aloof, in my solitude, cold.