Vantage Hollow

The corridor stretches ahead,
With files that will never be read.
The chairs are designed,
For the motionless mind,
Until every ambition is dead.

A vacancy sits in the row,
Where progress continues to slow.
The silence is vast,
Like the forms of the past,
And nothing is left here to show.

The ledger is covered in dust,
While cabinets crumble to rust.
An appendix is torn,
From the day it was born,
And delay is the rule we must trust.

A margin is drawn on the page,
To measure the width of the cage.
The waiting is still,
By the static grey sill,
As the document enters old age.

The vacancy sits in the hall,
With nothing to answer the call.
The ledger is bound,
To the stationary ground,
And the shadow descends on the wall.

The waiting room freezes in time,
With silence considered a crime.
A vacancy waits,
By the rusted old gates,
And the ledger is covered in grime.

An appendix is filed in the dark,
Where no one can measure the mark.
The delay is severe,
Through the stationary year,
And the corridor loses its spark.

A delay in the paper cascade,
Where every ambition will fade.
The ledger remains,
In the stationary chains,
And the silence is perfectly made.

The corridor stretches in grey, Where forms are consigned to delay. The silence is kept, While the applicants slept, And validation withers away.

A vacancy haunts every chair, In the waiting room’s motionless air. The ledger is closed, As the system proposed, With a margin no worker will share.

An appendix is filed in the gloom, To outlast every soul in the room. The waiting is slow, With nowhere to go, And the silence resembles a tomb.

The ledger records not a thing, No output or progress to bring. The delay is exact, As a matter of fact, While the silence continues to ring.

A margin of error remains, In the motionless, paper-bound chains. Validation is dead, With nothing ahead, Except silence and endless refrains.

The waiting room measures the grey, As the document withers away. The silence remains, In the motionless chains, And the margin enforces delay.

A ledger records not a sound, Where the stationary files can be found. The vacancy stares, At the motionless chairs, While the silence continues unbound.

The corridor offers no end,
With nothing left over to send.
The vacancy stays,
Through the endless grey days,
And the appendix will never amend.

The surface remains visually bright,
Projecting a status of right.
The proof chain beneath
Is a hollowed-out sheath,
Yet the audit approves of the sight.

The seal has been firmly applied,
With nothing left open to hide.
Since the basis is void,
We are quite overjoyed,
By the structural calm we provide.

The badge on the dashboard is green,
The calmest that I’ve ever seen.
The proof doesn’t load,
But we shipped all the code,
So I’m leaving to clean the machine.