Being Sisyphus

A few days ago, I vaguely recall dreaming about

Being Sisyphus, rolling a lead boulder

Uphill towards a cliff overlooking all of

Tartarus.

 

Shades and shadows parted to watch;

I turned my head to the left and saw my

Eternal compatriot, Tantalus, his body taut,

lean with thirst and

hunger.

 

Water and fruit bowed away from his wanting,

Gaping mouth, not out of spite,

But only because Hades had etched this

Fate into the eternal marble bones of

heaven and earth

 

This morning I woke up, having had the same

dream again.

 

Somehow, this time, I turned my head to the right

And saw thousands, maybe millions

Of cliffs and valleys, all full of other

Shadows rolling boulders, shades

in tragic thirst

 

When I woke to a bright chorus of birds

Returning home to spreading arms

Of spring

I found such

Little solace

In the sound