New Crusaders

Lost in the haze of their smartphones,
No time to spare for substance,
The new crusaders hunt ephemeral grails
That evaporate soon after they appear.
Tail-chasing circulators,
They eddy in place,
Gaining velocity but rarely distance.
They throb with energy, these hermit-dynamos
That chug and struggle for the heights,
But barely best a two-percent grade.
One feels for them, the tire-spinners,
Treadless tractors inching along,
Yearning to be meaningful;
And yet all their efforts seem self-defeating--
They deserve a good shove in a different direction.