Do you remember the name of that bloke?
He held up the sky , or something equally impressive.
He’s got nothing on you.
On your shoulders , at your feet,
in your bones.
Atlas , his name was, I think.
A myth to your reality.
What will they call you when they tell your story ?
They won’t tell it. Of course.
You will. You must.
You who carry it all.
just as it was his.