Sisyphus Silence

Sisyphus’ Silence I sit, a silent, carved-out zone, A soul entrapped, unlit, unwhole, The majority’s tide grinds flesh to bone, While others’ feelings wallow, roll In mud that clings, a river’s drone. Sisyphus slumps at mountain’s base, Scowls at the stone, then dares a smile, “Nevermore” hums through empty space, The gods, once loud, now mute, exiled.