Brandon Singleton
Published 11/13/2020
I heard a tale that wasn’t true
About a job that’s never through.
He pushes on the boulder.
The work just makes him older.
I wouldn’t do that job, would you?
The boulder crept toward the peak,
Its mover weary, faint and weak.
It tumbled down the hillside
and crushed him on the inside.
To start again is vain and bleak.
A punishment for stealing life
With trickery that earned God's strife.
No being lives forever.
No mortal is that clever.
To shortchange death, there is no price.
I told a tale that was a lie
About a man that lived to die.
With ears bent on salvation,
Their fears end in elation.
I tell it when I hear them cry.
I sing a song with fleeting breath.
I bid the words to fill my breast.
The corpse of madness shivers.
The voice of reason quivers.
To breathe is to delay one's death.
I chose a task that mattered most.
I conquered it so I could boast.
The stories roused and tricked me.
The glory faded quickly.
The spoils are gone and all is lost.
I heard a tale that must be true
About a job that’s never through.
I wouldn’t do that job, would you?
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash
Poem inspired by the Greek mythological tale of Sisyphus.