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....
Continue reading...