The attitude of sorrow for your sin
Is hid beneath your broad assured grin.
Asham’d, I think, not that you cause such pain,
But that your high ideals were kept in vain.
With lightning punish mortals for mistakes
Of which the godly sender, Zeus partakes
And thus upon me have you put such blame
For it, of that which now you falsely claim
To be above, in thoughts, beliefs, and ways.
As we have seen, the sinner always pays
No matter if he errs without intent
Across the Styx he'll dwell without content.
And that dear truth shall soon my pain decrease
But yet it tears my conscience, yields no peace.
This course of thought has now my faith revers’d
Redeeming you and leaving me the curs'd.
My heart cries out whenever I think ill
Of you, for I with words do also kill.
Thus you and I our wounds disguise
The guilt and pain behind our guarded eyes.
We do not see though Atlas 'fore us stands
He tries to hold the world up with his hands
And yet he thinks he must, he cannot fail,
He will not falter, e'en as he grows pale.
He won't admit the burden is too great,
Perceived weakness does infuriate
Who so esteem themselves too high.
And in the end we all must die
What happens then, no one can tell
For none return from the realms of Heav'n or Hell.
may2014
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