I can relate totally to this word as I love to travel. I wish to one day be able to visit all 50 states and explore the world internationally. One of most interesting places to visit will be the Holy Land. One day!
The atlas is a representation of the world. It shows all continents, seas and oceans. I use to read atlases for fun when I was younger. I enjoyed drawing maps and sketching the features of the terrain. I created map keys to go along with it.
I once looked at an atlas, and thought…I really haven’t seen as much of the world as I should have done. I wish I could see it, but without you by my side what would be the point? The world may be beautiful, but I wouldn’t see that if you weren’t stood next to me. I would rather only see the inside of this house forever than anywhere else in the world if it meant seeing it with you.
he carried the world on his shoulders,
once upon a million billion years
he lifted ever last thing up into the air
did he feel the million thoughts everyone has?
Atlas.A Map. Also A Titan. The Titan cursed with forever holding the world on is shoulders. Never allowed to move, never given relief. For if he should fail, and let the earth touch the floor, the whole world is destroyed. This stems from Greek Mythology.
my friend loves atlases. he had many of them at home and showed me what makes a good atlas. i remember a story by jorge borges about a king who wanted to make a real life atlas. anoteher planet just like this one. its been really long i have seen an atlas lately. in old days i dreamed of exploring uncharted lands and adding to the atlas.
Her favorite book was an atlas because she thought it held all the answers. Every single one, can you imagine that? “A little bit of everything! And maps, so many maps!” she used to exclaim to her family and friends. The family nodded in false encouragement. The friends weren’t friends at all. It was only a matter of time before she learned that the atlas did not, in fact, hold all the answers. And that was when she put down the atlas and picked up a flag.
She poured over the book, running her fingers up and down the coastlines, imagining the beaches in strange lands and how they must compare to the beach outside her window. She squinted her eyes against the sunlight and tried to see Delaware across the expanse of ocean. Of course she was on the wrong side of the island to do so, but it was a nice thought.
Oh, maps. They’re weird. They are pretty magical if you think about them without thinking about geography or history. I mean the whole world on a paper.
What’s deeper than a shrug
for the weight is far greater than simply the world
the crashing of universes
worlds of ideas bashing each other for dominance
all taking place inside my mind
fighting for supremacy
racking my body
spinning my soul outward into the void
A book of maps. I map showing so much information in such a little format. A source of knowledge. Makes you feel so small, like a droplet in the ocean. It makes you realize that you aren’t the only one in the world. That people around you need help. It makes you realize that the world is not as well off as you. So go help them if you can. GO volunteer. Be a helper to anyone you can.
he held the weight of the world upon his shoulders
quite literally supporting everyone and everything
a great honour
used as a punishment
for who wants to be the one responsible for everything?
although it is not your fault when something goes wrong
somebody needs to get the blame
When I was in 9th grade my friends made up a dance called the “atlas”, which was basically waving your arms around while slightly hunched over, like “Atlas”. There was also a dance called “The Hitler”, which is probably exactly what you think it looks like.
My grandmother’s atlas was so big that it took up the entire coffee table. Its worn down cover, however, still retained a tint of royal blue, as if this sort of book of maps were fit more for a monarch than a country matron. As I flipped through the pages, I was amazed to find nations I had never heard of before. Shaktu. Hothmandi. Were these real, or had I accidentally found a fantasy world?
The body on the table reads like an atlas of sorrow – all beauty crushed, all identifying features marred and blurred by trauma. The wounds are roads across a lost world, the eyes are closed forever to the sun, and the mouth poised as if to speak, but that landscape will remain silent until the burning.
I am lost
I will be found
I am searching for myself
I see the light that is me
I am all that I wish to be
I want for nothing
I have everything I need
All is whole
All is well
I am
atlas i found nothing do i need an atlas or is it at las i have not a clue i hadnt like this word my words are lost i must focus and find myself with an atlas but there isn’t one. i haven’t one and there isn’t. I am?
I skim my fingers along the spine of the book, a listing of places and locations, destinations and travels all far too numerous to visit within my short lifetime. So many possibilities … so many limitations. To go everywhere, or to go only a few places and to know them well? The doors beckon within the pages of this fragile book as I try and decide.
It’s on the floor now.
All the pieces of humanity.
All the pieces of
everything.
All the shadows of life that danced in the trees,
all the smiles that ever existed,
all the hearts you ever touched.
are gone.
All because of he wasn’t strong enough.
All because he was
selfish enough
to let the world fall.
She stares at the page, mouth slightly agape, “anywhere, mommy?”
“Anywhere.”
She is seven years old. Her mother just gave her the gift of wonder.
the world is waiting.
I can relate totally to this word as I love to travel. I wish to one day be able to visit all 50 states and explore the world internationally. One of most interesting places to visit will be the Holy Land. One day!
The atlas is a representation of the world. It shows all continents, seas and oceans. I use to read atlases for fun when I was younger. I enjoyed drawing maps and sketching the features of the terrain. I created map keys to go along with it.
Atlases lay scattered on the floor of her bedroom as she fantasized about leaving her small town and starting a new life somewhere new and exciting.
I once looked at an atlas, and thought…I really haven’t seen as much of the world as I should have done. I wish I could see it, but without you by my side what would be the point? The world may be beautiful, but I wouldn’t see that if you weren’t stood next to me. I would rather only see the inside of this house forever than anywhere else in the world if it meant seeing it with you.
atlas
mundo
planeta
conocer
ver
disfrutar
crecer
expandirse
planificar
mundo
amor
humanidad
he carried the world on his shoulders,
once upon a million billion years
he lifted ever last thing up into the air
did he feel the million thoughts everyone has?
Atlas.A Map. Also A Titan. The Titan cursed with forever holding the world on is shoulders. Never allowed to move, never given relief. For if he should fail, and let the earth touch the floor, the whole world is destroyed. This stems from Greek Mythology.
my friend loves atlases. he had many of them at home and showed me what makes a good atlas. i remember a story by jorge borges about a king who wanted to make a real life atlas. anoteher planet just like this one. its been really long i have seen an atlas lately. in old days i dreamed of exploring uncharted lands and adding to the atlas.
Her favorite book was an atlas because she thought it held all the answers. Every single one, can you imagine that? “A little bit of everything! And maps, so many maps!” she used to exclaim to her family and friends. The family nodded in false encouragement. The friends weren’t friends at all. It was only a matter of time before she learned that the atlas did not, in fact, hold all the answers. And that was when she put down the atlas and picked up a flag.
She poured over the book, running her fingers up and down the coastlines, imagining the beaches in strange lands and how they must compare to the beach outside her window. She squinted her eyes against the sunlight and tried to see Delaware across the expanse of ocean. Of course she was on the wrong side of the island to do so, but it was a nice thought.
Oh, maps. They’re weird. They are pretty magical if you think about them without thinking about geography or history. I mean the whole world on a paper.
What’s deeper than a shrug
for the weight is far greater than simply the world
the crashing of universes
worlds of ideas bashing each other for dominance
all taking place inside my mind
fighting for supremacy
racking my body
spinning my soul outward into the void
A book of maps. I map showing so much information in such a little format. A source of knowledge. Makes you feel so small, like a droplet in the ocean. It makes you realize that you aren’t the only one in the world. That people around you need help. It makes you realize that the world is not as well off as you. So go help them if you can. GO volunteer. Be a helper to anyone you can.
he held the weight of the world upon his shoulders
quite literally supporting everyone and everything
a great honour
used as a punishment
for who wants to be the one responsible for everything?
although it is not your fault when something goes wrong
somebody needs to get the blame
Atlas is my dog’s name and he is sitting right next to me ahaha I can’t take this one seriously and this is all I can think to write.
When I was in 9th grade my friends made up a dance called the “atlas”, which was basically waving your arms around while slightly hunched over, like “Atlas”. There was also a dance called “The Hitler”, which is probably exactly what you think it looks like.
very good
My grandmother’s atlas was so big that it took up the entire coffee table. Its worn down cover, however, still retained a tint of royal blue, as if this sort of book of maps were fit more for a monarch than a country matron. As I flipped through the pages, I was amazed to find nations I had never heard of before. Shaktu. Hothmandi. Were these real, or had I accidentally found a fantasy world?
The body on the table reads like an atlas of sorrow – all beauty crushed, all identifying features marred and blurred by trauma. The wounds are roads across a lost world, the eyes are closed forever to the sun, and the mouth poised as if to speak, but that landscape will remain silent until the burning.
I am lost
I will be found
I am searching for myself
I see the light that is me
I am all that I wish to be
I want for nothing
I have everything I need
All is whole
All is well
I am
atlas i found nothing do i need an atlas or is it at las i have not a clue i hadnt like this word my words are lost i must focus and find myself with an atlas but there isn’t one. i haven’t one and there isn’t. I am?
So you don’t know my name or maybe you do. Am I the mist that condenses into dew?
Must I evaporate: a parting caress of the lips?
Never mind, for now the sun is shining dear, please do carry its glow with each little sip. No rain on the brain. Your eyes are clear.
I skim my fingers along the spine of the book, a listing of places and locations, destinations and travels all far too numerous to visit within my short lifetime. So many possibilities … so many limitations. To go everywhere, or to go only a few places and to know them well? The doors beckon within the pages of this fragile book as I try and decide.
It’s on the floor now.
All the pieces of humanity.
All the pieces of
everything.
All the shadows of life that danced in the trees,
all the smiles that ever existed,
all the hearts you ever touched.
are gone.
All because of he wasn’t strong enough.
All because he was
selfish enough
to let the world fall.