Beneath the Burden of Weight

 

Beneath the Burden of Weight

He rose from stone and sky alike,

his shoulders built to bear the stars,

the endless wheel of night and day,

the thunder’s pulse, the clash of wars.

The gods had fled their ancient thrones,

and left him chained to fate’s command—

to hold the heavens lest they fall,

and crush the fragile earth by hand.

 

Now ages pass, and myths decay,

his burden shifts, but still remains.

It’s not the sky that weighs him down,

but man’s indifference, greed, and chains.

He feels the tremor of despair,

the cries of hearts that go unheard,

the silence bought by wealth and fear,

the promise drowned in broken words.

 

And now the world he tried to keep

collapses where compassion died—

the rich build towers out of ash,

while children starve on streets outside.

The oceans choke, the forests burn,

the meek are trampled, cast away,

and Atlas—bleeding, bowed, and blind—

still bears the world we’ve torn today.

 

Now cities howl beneath the smoke,

their lights like dying embers fade.

The air is thick with human cries,

the hunger, rage, and debts unpaid.

He hears the pounding of the lost,

their fists upon the walls of stone,

and feels the earth convulse with grief—

a planet breaking, bone by bone.

 

And from the dust the displaced come,

to ruins where their lives began—

with empty hands, no strength to build,

no faith left in their fellow man.

They walk the unforgiving wastes,

where long lost children taint the air,

and time moves on, erasing all—

a world forgets it did not care.

 

Lost souls of people cast aside,

he bears their sorrow evermore—

the weight of ignorance and pride,

the sighted blind, the hearts gone sore.

He sees the ruin, knows the cost—

and mourns the world that mankind lost.

He weeps, yet knows it must be so—

for man must reap the seeds they sow.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Oct 2025)