In the end, I’m feeling
More and more
There won’t be any end
No ice walls
No frozen firmament
To clearly define
The corners and lines
Of a divine invention
So paper-thin
You see right through it
But I bet
When you can’t find an edge
By a map half-written
It could feel like the end
To have to keep going
The inkwells
Of prophecy
And cartography
Dried up long ago
They’re hoarse from speaking
Of our studied hesitation
To shoulder the weight
Of our bad-bеhaving
When Atlas shrugs
Whose back is breaking?
More and more
There won’t be any end
No ice walls
No frozen firmament
To clearly define
The corners and lines
Of a divine invention
So paper-thin
You see right through it
But I bet
When you can’t find an edge
By a map half-written
It could feel like the end
To have to keep going
The inkwells
Of prophecy
And cartography
Dried up long ago
They’re hoarse from speaking
Of our studied hesitation
To shoulder the weight
Of our bad-bеhaving
When Atlas shrugs
Whose back is breaking?
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