[mousepoet]: 243.mousey's Poetry.smile, sisyphus lives

In a weak moment I find myself
Locked in mortal combat,
a big rock and a bigger hill.

Existential, transcendental, fundamental,
whatever it is,
I do it,
again and again.

(Sisyphus lives,
but he takes longer lunch breaks)

It’s give and give,
and take and take,
the rush of completion,
the quaver, the fall
the walk (horrifying, easy) back down.

In a moment of strength I can see an end.
In a moment I can see this:
time, a rolling stone,

a mountain ground to a plain,
the slow crush of centuries.

But time is a factor,
and I am not immortal.

Sisyphus lives,
but to tell the truth,
his heart’s not in it anymore.