Diary of Sisyphus

I scale a mountain high Sandals on feet propel me toward the sky. Breathing thin air through thin nostrils I sweat and try To minimize being battered by the razor winged fly That scalps my beard and the lashes of each eye. Honestly, with each heavenly step I try But stumble, and am humbled to cry… Not for lack of joy or for lack of sadness, but for my hollow motive: deception is a lie. And yet I persist to wonder why This task is a punishment and a crime. I Yearn to know, but through weariness, sigh.