He
wasn’t Atlas, and he didn’t
shrug.
But the time had come,
he
thought, to stop compensating,
compensating
for decisions made
beyond
his control, decisions
reflecting
not malice or ill will
but
ignorance, and fear, the two
things
that stimulate most decisions
like
this. So he sloughed off two
of
the jobs he couldn’t do
any
more, and the half of a job
that
was almost beyond him,
and
settled for a single job, one job,
one
job that he was paid for, doing
it
well and faithfully.
Western
civilization didn’t collapse
and
the world didn’t come to an end,
at
least not at first.
Photograph by Alex Borland via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
4 comments:
Written in wisdom.
I love this poem, Glynn, especially the ending where you leave us hanging. Brilliant!
i'm not atlas
is no excuse
to slough-off
now get those boots on
you didn't think that
you were gonna
get by with doin'
one job
did ya?
Way to build the suspense, Glynn. Why, I wonder, do we think ALL the jobs are ours to do? Hope 'he' can lean into that one and it will be enough.
Post a Comment