In the most literal content-based sense
Sisyphus had a problem.
A boulder shaped disparity
Between expectation and reality
Within the absurd monotony
Of a repeated empty struggle
Without change, without purpose.

​ Let's roll with this for a moment
Clearly Sisyphus
Had a pattern that on first glance
Could be called maladaptive.
Punishment enacted over and over
For living life too preciously
—Too cleverly—
In the pursuit of all
The immersed pleasures of earthly existence.

​ How heavy is that?
This micro-focus on every pound
Of that existential weight.
The muscle shake of resisting
The dreadfulness of futility.

There is more. There is always more
The whole greater than sums of parts.

For there is an instant,
A wild exclamation at the pinnacle
When the stones of sorrow and toil
Release downwards
When Sisyphus stretches his arms
Light as two fallen feathers
And runs joyful, wind in hair
Descending rebellious free
To laugh meaning into the moment.

​ There is value in his process
Of pushing hopefulness ever upward
In the lightness of a mind organized
Around transcendent levity
Rising up again and again
To disrupt the silence of stone fate.

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