A Titan’s Burden It began with Atlas complaining; like a crackling whip of God’s gavel crashing, or the preamble to a symphony of rolling thunder. “The World on my shoulders, has become no greater than The Cross on my back.” He spits out those words like bile coming up. And casts his eyes astray to avoid the splatter. …as Atlas fights the weariness seeping in; He roars; his patience wears thin long after his muscles charred away; He curses; and postmarks damnations that never get sent for fear of blasphemy, and any new consequences he must carry. M. L. Michael 08-03-05
A Titan’s burden
It began with Atlas complaining; like
a crackling whip of God’s gavel crashing, or
the preamble to a symphony of rolling thunder.
“The World on my shoulders, has become
no greater than The Cross on my back.”
He spits out those words like bile coming up.
And casts his eyes astray to avoid the splatter. […]
Every Breath Poetic 