Luyện nghe bài hát Shoulders

Like many, I to look at the stars.
I love the that ours is just one among many.
What I love about is that our constellations tell a story.
Our were born from mythology.
Mythology was our first attempt to understand the world in which we
We put a God in everything and those Gods give us our reasons.
Why is the sky
Who chose
Gods.
How men have nipples?
the will of the Gods.
Why this wine taste so good?
a God in it!
And for a while, there was not a single that the gods could not explain.
We believed their anger gave us lightning;
Their despair gave us
We whispered our desires to them, believing that charity would sustain us.
Gods... were just stories.
But stories became a large part of how we
They burn into our memories
They a part of how we remember; we can remember almost everything,
Right down to that unbearable bee sting
When we learned that this blue marble we call the world has rules.
Rule one: don't fuck with the bees!
An lesson brought to you by your memories.
I remember that I grew up mythology.
I remember the story of the Atlas, who was also the god of astronomy
The original global system sending sailors safely home by telling them which constellation to keep starboard.
He taught us about the stars, and in all this, while he up ours
Our pale dot.
But is caught between two different tellings of his story.
In the first, he leads a rebellion Olympus and is then sentenced to hold the heavens on his shoulders for eternity.
In the second story, he is chosen to be the of the pillars that hold up the earth and sky.
I the second story.
It means the world is not a punishment; but rather, a responsibility.
But how can just one be charged with such a
How can one be responsible for all this?
When I think of Atlas, I think of a single of rain
I think how unfair it would be to hold a single drop solely responsible for making the entire clean again.
I remember how my grandmother tried to our world to me-
She told me a
She said the ground and the sky, they love other
But they have arms
So rain; that's how they hold one another.
I began to see how the earth and sky each other.
But I wondered us.
In perfect design, where do we fit?
Which piece of the are we?
constellations, I began to see a connection between dots and numbered my thoughts
And drew lines one to the next.
I began to see us in the context of a picture, sharpening the blur slowly into focus
We are Atlas.
I saw that pale blue dot, this one world, is all we get.
There be no reset button, no new operating system, no downloadable upgrade
We will not be allowed to trade in our old world for a new one climate control or better fuel efficiency
We get one at this.
all reports of second chances; we get one.
And yet we draw advances on our future as if we one day be held accountable-
We will.
We are.
The human race runs toward a finish line emblazoned with the worlds far' and wonders,
Will we cross it?
Have we
We are faced the seemingly impossible talk.
And okay to be afraid.
Our dilemma stands before us like a mountain carved a blockade, the sheer magnitude of our problem would be enough to dissuade anyone.
How do we the world?
We lay in our beds curled into marks, wondering
can we do?
Where do we
Is hope a glue crazy enough to us together while we're falling apart?
The burden immense.
But we can do this.
We must take the martial arts to loving our planet-
as self-defense
Forget the cost
There will be no thing as worth saving as this!
Nothing more important; as precious;
is home.
All of our start and end here.
We are sheltered within an atmosphere that has given us every single breath we will take
Every monument we have ever made has come from the of our planet.
like blood, skin like soil, bones like granite
It is not a myth, is no debate, facts are in
Fact is, never been any question.
We are crisis.
We dismiss the truth not because we can't accept it, but because to commit ourselves to change is a scary prospect for anybody.
The most alarming part of the statement 'we are crisis'
the word 'crisis',
It's the 'we'.
Because those two letters take the responsibility from one and rest it squarely on the shoulders of everybody.
We are now.
But our strength will come from finding a way to share in shouldering the responsibility of the impossible into somehow
Somehow, we do this.
We can do this.
We can apathy; we can reject uncertainty
We can be the new in our story
We will not see immediately
We must act in faith as the hour hand grips the minute hand and they on the eleventh hour
We must believe the seed that change is possible to see.
Never seize the flower, it grows knowing it become more than what it was
It changes, in growth, all of its potential can be unlocked.
Change is like rain, it starts with a drop.
Just one, our pale blue dot.
Caught in an endless waltz called gravity, we the sun, wondering who, if anyone left the light on.
We are drawn upon the earth, we are connected to one another, we are bound.
We must as the arms that connect the ground to the sky.
We must try to be more the rain.
Our may differ, our goal is the same:
How do we save our pale dot?
We act as the rain, realizing that each individual drop is as equal and as any.
We act as one.
Now, we are many.