Sisyphus Within us


The two sides of a raindrop are agression and adoration,

Dropped by a drizzle of infinite duration,

A single simple, scattered smattering of splattered saturation,

All that we feel is subject to sudden migration.

These tides of emotional position; disposition,

Of inhibition and ambition,

Of intuition and exposition,

Of ignition and intermission,

Are constantly in a state of transition; transmission.

Why push the river? Its flow is beyond control,

To worry about its current makes a mountain of a mole-knole,

Which we then stagger to the summit of- beating back a boulder,

Which hits it’s goal, slips from control and rolls.

This is our ancient toll– our precursor’s curse,

An insatiable thirst for a whole soul.