The faring was wide; thus rose an Atlas
between the straits of a kiss and a kiss.
The sphere was a flavor of light, a star
darkened by centuries from its neighbor.
At first the mountains were soft and the peaks
runneled snow, cleansing the rough evergreens,
the rocks unclenching. Then, the winds loosened
winter: sky expanded an ice-gray mass.
The bearer bent there then, the light basing.
The narrows of his flesh crying with sweat.
Fists opened in his heart, but nothing gave.
Emptiness, like a brain, begged to be dumb.
Then, the shoulders trembled and sagged, slowly.
The ball on his backbone, borne and balanced,
dropped. Listen! But there is nothing to hear.
The sea is dense. A world falls like a tear.
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