AtlasLove is the weight of the universe…Atlas by ~solaric
a massive thing,
ten kilograms raised to the sixtieth power.
(Scientists haven’t even begun to estimate its heaviness.)
It presses on our shoulders;
crushes us into the bedrock
—again and again—
we lie as dust under the vasty wheel
until a wind stirs up
a soul to recreate us.
All those lightyears of space and time,
the endless abyss of dark matter:
wait for our response
as we rise anew each day
from the ground.
The galaxy is a great spiral with its focus on man.
He staggers and it tilts;
the center of gravity shifts
with every step.
We reach out to embrace each other
with great arms of the Milky Way.
Are you amazed by our struggle?
living under all this pressure.
Like divers in Marianas trenches,
our bones creak with a responsibility
to exert the utmost care.
Some think the universe will keep grinding
its way into eternity—
calm and unperturbed by tiny human beings.
WinterIn darkness your figure moves against the fire,Winter by ~solaric
Alive in dancing flickers, shooting sparks
Like comets in the night: glowing they aspire
Amid the falling snow. The eye marks
The contrast; the flakes aslant in the furnace glow
And hiss on ardent steel. A fog is breathed
Into the night, ascending in a curling flow
Toward the high pines. We two are wreathed
In this atmosphere: cold fills our lungs
And melted snow gathers on hair and coats.
This is winter, when flame climbs the rungs
Of heaven’s stair and misty vapor floats
Like mystic symbols drawn for us to read
Alone in the night, where quiet peace is freed.
AutumnOld roan horseAutumn by ~solaric
come up from the river:
plant each foot
to blossom the cold
in shining, spangling frost.
in season, you have
slow clip, swing step,
you keep your suitable rhythm
your smattering coat;
and flame to red in the sun.
True, you're old,
but growing graceful.
inlay on your bones:
your skin is a royal mantle.
There you move
a horse in the field:
from dreams of glory,
you are the color of the end.
Dream in the LightA waking dream,Dream in the Light by ~solaric
her own since youth:
metamorphosis of the human
after the pattern of butterflies.
In fullness of time
she takes flight,
learns the joy of motion
through limitless space.
She can sense the vision
Back opens and like saplings
the strong muscles and bones
unfurl to wings,
soft feathers sprouting,
to pinions in demand of flight.
reawakes with her journey,
sweeping the long curves
of fallow earth and field
with the speed of horses
and the passionate heart of the wind.
Oh, now her wings are born
and carry her miles and miles
to the home of a man
who alone gives her flight.
Returning through farmland
in the gloaming,
colors lay in layers
around a scarlet disc of sun.
Her spirit breaks free
and plunges into the ocean of sky
like a diver.
a bird labors toward the peak
of the sunset vault.
She recognizes it
given motion and purpose
soaring and exalting:
a glad flier on t