We must have a conversation
You hunch there, tensed and groaning.
Why do you hold it up, I wonder,
After all these centuries past?
The weight, you say, is greater
Than last year
I see, I reply
And the year before, you murmur to your toes
I stretch, close to touching the globe and ask, Then why lend your strength to its support?
It is my lot. Your God is putting the pressure on.
Not so, I say,
He has not changed.