The world, precariously held
On Atlas' shoulders, shakes
And, shudders. Spins out of control.
What are we to make
Of changes, charges, clash, and chaos,
Threatening and real?
Life, so precious, in the balance;
Is there room to heal?
Is there time? Is there time?
Or, have we squandered hope?
What will it take for climbing souls
To cling to saving rope?