“The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labour”.
Camus, “The Myth Of Sisyphus”

in vain combat with gravity,
this man is so wise that he’s enchained to life,
and as sure as the sun climbs and falls,
then climbs and falls again, he will work
until he comes to love his martyrdom.
he has his rock; he’s pushing it uphill,
and with each ascent the burden grows more weighty.
he knows that in his time off,
as he moves down from the summit,
he won’t convince himself that all is well.
but then, a lifetime later, with the sun
at its meridian, his arid heart implodes;
the doting stone rolls over him,
grinds his grateful head into the dust,
and continues to the bottom, where it rests in wait.

® 1993