Атлас теряет опору: мир исчезает под песками, оставляя героя в пустыне

Tired, exhausted, spent. Atlas fails, his shoulders relax, the mighty stone slips, and goes tumbling. It scratches the land, denting the mountains, before crashing into western sea. He stands there trembling, covering his head. – He waits a day. But the sky isn’t falling. Liars! he sneers, stretching his ruined arms upwards. He treads down to the desert city excited to start his life anew. But where it once stood, he only finds sand He goes north, but there is only sand. So he turns and goes south But there is only sand. His eyes scan the horizon, but everywhere, there is only sand. He staggers, cries, curses the gods. But the sky isn’t weeping. The dry wind heckles him relentlessly, conducting the sand into a cruel symphony. Determined to find the world he once loved, he searches. At last, he finds a city, hoping to end his life without illusion. He enters the gates, but only finds buildings built at strange angles, people spitting sounds he cannot comprehend. So Atlas flees, he desperately tries to find that world he knew, but that is buried beneath the sand. The world has moved on, casting those who did not run after her into nothing. In the end, there is only sand piling at the bottom of the hourglass. ——————— Itself it is worthless, oh, but don’t dare despair! What will you conjure with it?