The weight of Fall breeze,
Soft drift, the ash of old fires,
Sent to the four winds
Like my tale of life
The shape of all things to come
Crafted by what was
But for those times when,
As Atlas, my shoulders shrug…
Weight of world, falling
Drifting like the ash
To rest quietly on ground
Inertial gasp
Spin of time, passing,
Cycles turn replication
Occasionally
But me? I just feel tired.