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.
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