A heavy weight is lifted. By the one, exiled to a life of damnation and pain.

The one, who must bear the shame of his sin upon his shoulders. For penance, he must stay surrounded by temptation, by those who mock him, yet still, hold that weight. Unwavering.

He is the one who has made a mistake.

Because of his terrible burden, a deep lugubriousness settles in.

It makes a home among his fevered and tired mind.

"the ground is ugly. This pain is ugly. My sorrow is ugly. I am ugly."

A constant reminder to himself of his dilemma.

But,

"Has he not asked for forgiveness?

Has he not paid his grievances?

Has he not truly sought after the light that will brighten his dark?"

Those who do not even know what light it is which they speak of, ask.

If he were to answer, it would be "No."

Because, he has already been forgiven.

No, this is a self punishment.

This is towards him, not from anyone,

Not for anyone else.

Like atlas, I feel this same sadness wash over me. I don’t understand why, why does it haunt me so?

But, maybe I do know.

I have just forgotten.

Like atlas, I will bear my pain with shame, yet with a strength that is beyond the gods.

I will hold that weight. Immovable.

Unwavering.