Atlas and Hercules

The charcoal sky portends another flood

And understood between the firmament

And earthly cities cringing from the hail

Brave Atlas sweats his duty like a saint

Yet waits for Hercules to take his place

Just long enough for him to have some fun

To find a Titan nymph and sow wild oats

Before the world concludes, his sentence done

Good Atlas bears the heavens on his back

Endures his occupation like the rack

But all the while he calculates escape

From servitude to go and ride the grape

The perspiration rolls into his eyes

The sting of salt until the Titan cries

Contributing his tears to ocean brine

And wishing like the devil for the vine

Meanwhile, great Hercules has other tasks

A show of someone’s mercy all he asks

Has bigger fish to fry than Bacchus’ call

Albeit that old Atlas deems them small

Poor Titan stuck forever with his curse

Sad mortal doomed to dozen labors worse

As Atlas crouches knee deep in the sea

His rescuer is striving to be free

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