In a quiet room, stars descending down

Hung on strings, fashioned from old planet’s rings

An alarm beeps, much before all the town

A sleeps boy awakes, groggily sings


“Carry the world, carry the world, Atlas,”

“Leave dreams and wits behind to help the whole,”

He walks into the kitchen, eyes open alas

“Buenos dias, mama, time to do my roll,”


Atlas drives to work, assumes his normal place,

Holding up the whole wide world around him, 

An income for his family in chase,

Negligence to his own dreams and whims,


To hold the earth, a job bestowed unwilling

Carry the world, surviving not living


This poem is about: 
Our world


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