Progress. Regress.

My feet move,
But I'm standing,
I just stay where I am,
As the earth rotates below,
And I land where ever it was,
My heart wanted to go.

My mouth moves,
I've said nothing,
But your ears swear,
That they have heard something,
And its hard to believe that the birds don't chirp,
Expressly for me.

People travel the world in search of something,
Awestruck, by tall mountains, winding rivers, grinding gears of distant planets,
Delicious fruits and colorful sunsets, rolling hills and hidden trenches, pigmy deer and deformed fish.

They travel the world in search of something, but awestruck I stand, at having found nothing.