What once held sway

Has perished without

Any genuine warning,

Yet those antique dreams

With the tenacious seams

Haven't ceased to pester,

And a world-weary Atlas, 

Ready to drop the ball, 

Wonders why 

Should it him befall

To be tethered thus

To the ends of Earth, 

Having to buttress 

A world half-conscious

Only half the time...

 

But then again, 

What might his 

New calling be?

 

All this started 

With a 'why'

Whispered in some

Recess of his 

Restless mind;

 

'Why': what a dangerous

Little question, after all...