I wrote this recently, but I still think it sounds unfinished, suggestions to improve it would be appreciated. Recipients It seems some gifts can’t be returned, Even if they’re not unwrapped. Some looming tasks cannot be spurned, Even though we might feel trapped. If Atlas were to wince in pain, As he tries to hold the world, Would his efforts be in vain, If our hands were not unfurled? This azure orb in constant change, Is the gift that we receive. Can our hatreds be exchanged For the power to believe? If we saw ourselves as one, Like a diamond still uncut, I feel our anguish would be done, And we could leave this tragic rut. Who knows what tommorow brings For this world we will command, I always pray for better things, That peace should flow throughout the land.
The stanza about atlas is good, but i don't see how it ties in at all. I know it connects to the fact that "the azure orb is the gift" but it still seems to stand out. I don't know what you're saying about the "hands unfurled" since that seems an odd image... hands like flags, is what I think. Maybe I'm just being dense. Plus, if Atlas holds the world, how come it's a gift to us? I just don't know. I like the stanza but I think it belongs in another poem.
