Atlas

The world-bearer.

The world upon your shoulders
The salty sweat your vision blurs.
Your mind within a maelstrom reels.
Your muscles drawn so tight it feels
that soon they shall give in beneath the load.

The world is but a stage you hold
until the final story's told.
The venue is the galaxy
The time is all eternity,
The audience is apathetic stars.

The actors file aimless through,
The endlessly monotonous queue.
They play their parts with diffidence,
Or with elated confidence,
Then slip into the backstage of the past.

And still you toil endlessly,
Uphold your burden selflessly.
As each man cedes this sad domain
For one wherein resides no pain,
Still there you strive...
...to keep alive,
The precious spark of human life.