Atlas: The Sanctity of the Heavens Tuesday, March 5, 2024

I am unmoved. The heavens begin to slip off my shoulders, but I am unmoved.

I do not reach.

I do not grasp.

I do not attempt.

It rolls down my back as I attempt to stay still. I have not maintained my world.

My world falls into the abyss, tattered and left to rot by the one who must maintain its sanctity. Is my apathy not sacrilegious? Am I not shirking my most sacred of responsibilities to stand still and be unprovoked by the heavens falling further and further into the deep black of the cosmos?

I am unmoved.

I do not reach.

I do not grasp.

I do not attempt.

Am I so uncaring about my world, my responsibilities that I would let this slip? Are my essence and all its adornments worthless to me? In this moment of fear, I wonder what I may become.

I close my eyes to see the future and see nothing but the deepest of space—it is empty. It is nothing. I am nothing.

How can I forgive myself for the things I do not become?

I open my eyes to the world in which I inhabit as the heavens begin to fade into the background. I see my life as it is. I see the life I have created.

I close my eyes once more. I see the world in which I want to live. Not one filled with nothing, not one with a dearth of care and love, but one that mimics the hopes and dreams I’ve held near and dear for the longest of times.

I realize that my goals, my dreams, my hopes, are my sacred commandments. I realize that these aspirations are not optional. I realize:

It is not a matter of if I can, I must.

I move.

I reach.

I grasp.

I succeed.

The heavens are above me once more.