Atlas fades on stormy days

A tortured burden he must bear

But now the birds of song are gone

Descending the depths of despair

 

The sun in doubt has now gone out

Shrouding darkness o’er the land

The man in gloom has met his doom

Upon Albion he cannot stand

 

The breath of death is nigh at last

For the families of the crop

The man embarks a widow’s mark

While the tides begin to stop

 

To yet at last face the past

The banshees screech from hell

Unafraid of dying days

There cries his lover Nell

 

Through the trees and past the seas

In search of the harried king

From whom the world became unfurled

And now no townsfolk sing

 

Doomed a token fin’lly broken

The edge of mortality reached

With glazed eyes pointed toward the skies

His mouth agape at what beseeched

 

There in sadness lies our Atlas

The keeper of the Earth

His arms are weak his face is meak

Above they laugh at his dearth

 

The phantoms’ plight of the night

Reduced the titan to ash

Hereupon the man was drawn

In this devilry forced to bask

 

With the sun’s desperate hope undone

The only light shone from the man’s distant home

A somber note removes his coat

And takes up the titan’s mantel as his own

 

Upon his wing birds start to sing

The first of the hopeful songs

In the end the world held again

The struggles of Atlas carried on