Sisyphus

Sisyphus

Your so called some one

is going to give you something

which you hoped

I would give you,

and six hundred million cells

inside you waited and waited.

To day you are a beggar,

a begging bowl in hand

you reach the other

for a SEED broken or rotten.

He would glaze for the gift

he gives you.

And I?

I hide my animal whimper

underneath the stone.

I know I have to carry that stone

over Olympia

like cursed Sisyphus

over and over again.