Sisyphus at Work

Sisyphus at Work

Upon the rocky country slope,

I met with Sisyphus on his descent.

How can he so endlessly cope

With the unfulfillment of his torment?

He is not now a pleasant man

And it is likely he never was one.

There is naught in his present plan

To give value to anything he has done.

“This is a punishment, you fool;

One of the Gods' little allegories.

It is pointless not to be cruel

When squeezing lessons into life's stories.

“You want a triumph in this task

To earn some reverse of its purposed aim.

To cast me in the hero's mask,

Who will not be overcome by the Gods' game.

“Forget your useless optimism

And your attempt to retell my doomed fate.

Eternal hope is mere dogmatism,

Unreality in a perfumed state.

“Do you think I could this refuse?

To sit down here not to resume again?

To allow my body to snooze

And from my destined labors to abstain?

“I do not work for joy nor fear,

Not from any choice that I can command.

My muscles never volunteer,

But dance on strings pulled by an unseen hand.

“In life, I schemed to get my way,

To always be the one at the control.

Twice I met Death with tricks to play,

And I would break any rule to reach my goal.

“And now, helpless, I watch this show

In which I am the only performer.

Without end, up and down I go.

Was ever a hell made any warmer?”

Sisyphus resets in his world

And lays his shoulder to boulder anew.

His task is not in fact absurd,

But the planned worthlessness that is his due.

Do not find yourself in his shoes

When your boring job yields little success.

He repays those he did abuse

With a mighty hubris much in excess.