My mother has sewn silver linings into every sky
Hands weary with the weight of the world
And I realize I have always seen Atlas when I stare into her wisened eyes

Is it strength knowing only struggle?
Is it sorrow to be bone tired in a graveyard of all the butterflies you never set free?

How do we save the ones who never ask?
How do we save the ones who cannot save themselves?

I have watched every stitch across a starless night
Every regret and dark thought displayed before  me
Like a pool of shadows

Atlas spent eternity with the world chained to his shoulders
Sometimes I wonder if the forgotten gods come again in the hearts of the lost