Atlas

November 9, 2017
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I made a deal once,
A terrible and terrifying pact.
One that sold my life away,
And bound me as a slave.

Now, I know what tale
You think that I'm about to spin.
No, it was no deal with the devil.
Far from it in fact.

You see, I called
A meeting of the seven.
And not the deadlys,
These are a more subtle poison.

They are known
By those who’ve meet them before.
So tell me if this sounds familiar.
And if not, I hope it never will.

I've laid out the table
And pulled up the chairs,
Now time to wait and see
Who answers my call.

First, we have what may be,
The most deadly poison of all.
It creeps into you thoughts,
And fills up your mind.

Making this journey of seven,
That much more deadly.

So at Apathy’s entrance,
I faced a difficult choice.
To hold my resolve,
Or fall into the pit I left so long ago.

So I moved on from Apathy,
And turned to the next player
In this grievous game.
One that enters slowly,

 


But grows to be as loud thunder.
So now I must face Fear itself.
You may assume it's visage terrible.
That, the sight of it alone,

Might turn your blood to ice.
But I know better,
Fear is not a terrifying thing.
It is a fearful one.

It is hopeless, beaten, spineless thing.
A cowardly, toothless, fearful lion.
It is, in short;
Nothing to be afraid of.

But at least it is easy to spot
When you are afraid
You at least know what you fear.
This next, is often a far more subtle thing.

But other times
It overshadows all the rest.
You see Grief’s a funny thing.
And believe me the irony of that isn't lost.

It's clear enough when life is lost.
When someone loved,
Becomes someone lost.
But people lose far more,

Than one another.
So have you ever grieved,
For who you used to be?
For when you were;

Safe, ignorant, and happy.
See, a far more fickle thing.

But when that crow
Tried to dig it's claws it me again
It found no purchase in my soul,
Nothing it could sow in salt.


Instead it found a perch on the back of
Loathing, the fourth foulness
I'd summoned.
My eyes found the floor

For his return,
Never again shall I indulge,
To look upon his mirrored skin.
For his disease is potent indeed.

To turn the self, against itself.
But such things,
Are better left behind.
Instead the fifth villain

Comes creeping in.
It's not so easy to spot as all the rest.
It's a weed growing in the dark.
The shadows growing as the day fades.

There is no way to turn away from this.
Despair is a broken umbrella.
It serves only to catch the other six.
And funnel they down upon you

Like a crushing weight.
It is a faceless consuming maw.
So I no choice, but to;
Scream, fight, tear apart the dark.

And when I clawed my way back.
I find myself face to face with
Number six, oh yes
This is the one and only, Death.

I'm afraid I was ill mannered.
This was our first meeting in the flesh,
But I felt to urge to share a hand shake
With the specter of the human race.

And so, this sixth player
In our little Masquerade
Took his seat at the head
Of our round table.


Now those of you
Who are keeping track
Might be thinking.
Only six of seven have

Come to this fated reunion
And what could possibly be,
A greater Doom than Death.
Perhaps you have never meet

These six before,
If you had, then you should know
That there is only one
That gives them power.

So last of all,
I take my seat
And complete
This circle of seven.

And now I must face my demons.
So I tell them why I called them here.

“Once, I built a throne for each of you.
Forged out of insults, scars, and the like.
I gave away my mind to Dread
And let the six of you bind and break me.

But that was long ago,
I have long since cast you out.
Rid myself of each of you in turn.
I have settled my accounts.

Put my affairs in order
Burned away, what
You once infected.
But this is no news to you.

You already know,
You've lost this game.
I have called my check and mate.
The pieces have been packed

 


The board put away.
Yet, I look around,
And so many others are still playing.
I thought the game was over.

I thought my part was done.
And perhaps it is,
Yet I can not abide
To see my brothers and sisters

Still chained to their boards.
Their pieces poised, for defeat.
So I have a choice
I could ignore it,

I fought my uphill battle,
I bought my freedom.
But now, I wish to play once more.
So I'll set this chess board up again.

I already know how this game is won.
Yet, now the game has changed.
The stakes are debts unpaid.
Not mine, but those of whom,

I wish to save.
These new woes,
They do not belong to me.
They are my brother’s

When he feels alone. 
They are my sister’s,
When she has forgotten hope.
These are the stakes at hand

This pain, I make into Pawns
These bruises, I make Bishops
This rage into Rooks
All these things,

That may kill another,
These are things with which
I make my king.
And so I chain myself again


But not to you!
Never to you.

Not to you six
And your scripture of woe.
Oh no, I give a link to each
Person whom I wish to save.

I tell them how Atlas help up the sky
I tell them how I want to help them
Help them hold their head
Above the waves.

So maybe, just maybe,
They can have a breath of fresh hope
You see, I don't know
If I can carry this load.

So I've been working, day and night.
And I have taken all my woe.
And turned it to stone.
And with it, with it,

A mountain I have made of me.
One that can be seen from far and wide.
So perhaps, if one man alone
Can't hold up the sky.

Perhaps an army could.
Perhaps each person I save
Will turn their woe to stone.
Perhaps we will pile this mountain

High, high into the sky.
This mountain of petrified pain.
It will be a signal,
A beacon, to all who are lost.

And with each stone we add.
Another member of this army
Of every day angels
An army, to carry all the pain
That others can not.

So this, this is the deal I make with you.
Give to me, what others can not bear.
Forge for me, a world
Made only out of woe

And I place it one my shoulders.
So that I might hold up all this pain.
And keep it from the ones I love.
For this, I will sign my life away,

To this most important task.
For the sake, of all those who can't.






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