THIS THING IS A PROBLEM
When Atlas came down from the
Atlas mountains, I'd bet he was
in a real snit. One thing after
another, it must have seemed.
The sunlight drew the water for
the bath, but it turned into a
mountain stream; the pond
where he used to linger, into
a raging sea?
-
Those Gods, or whatever they
were, crawling along Mt. Olympus,
now that was more than even he
could bear. 'Were we not Gods?',
he thought unto himself, 'or just
more exalted humans full of snuff
and fire?'
-
Balancing preoccupations takes
up lot of time. Some other God,
or fire, or time, Chronus or
Hephaestus, help us with this
burden please.
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