Over & Out
Atlas stones are nothing to the globe that he holds
when time ripples and folds he becomes crippled and old.
When the curtains close and his soliloquy ends
with an epiphany and an exclamation point to bend
will he mend the cuts on his arms from the “almost fells”
or will he snap over and out with a story to tell?
Will he raise hell to heaven? ...Bring them face-to-face?
Only Atlas knows because he stands in God’s place.
He’s imprisoned by guilt with a ball and chain
knowing damn well he’s in charge of our fate
but let’s set aside the commotion and pain for a sec
‘cause I’ve got a notion that a thought can’t be direct.
So let’s dissect what’s inside of his mind
because taking pride in a concept is easy to hide
and maybe our lives…
are being lived in a bubble thought
…resting on Atlas’ shoulders, above his head
maybe the moment you let go – your life can’t be led…
See greed is a prestigious disease believed to be seen
so we chase our dreams with relative ease and impeach
the basis of our lives as selective thoughts branched from a tree
…that was grown from a brainstorm…
…of Atlas thoughts.
So I’ll hold on to this concept until my shoulder joints rot
and watch the people I caught branch off from the seed that I dropped
And when Atlas’ shoulders begin to bend or give
I’ll never question why I lived
inside of a bubble, part of a metaphorical rout
His life will be over…
…But I’ll finally be out.
-Over and out.
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