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Writing Byte #16: Sisyphus

Boulder on a hill, tumbling down,
With stubborn resolution, coming back around,
Letting loose a cry, a frustrated sound,
As the boulder kept on, tumbling down.

Sisyphus gave chase, landing with a bound,
Stopping the boulder just as it reached the ground,
Shoulder set, teeth gritted and head down and bowed,
He roared with the effort, clearly and loud.

Inch by inch, climbing up the mound,
As the boulder gained weight pound by pound,
Never giving up, staying strong and proud,
He struggled to the top, reaching for a cloud,

But anyone knows a cloud’s not a sound-
foundation for rest, and so he found,
the boulder, fell, turning round and round,
As the boulder kept on, tumbling down.

I reached out to him, as he came towards me,
wanting to show him, make him see,
he didn’t need his boulder, didn’t need to succeed,
If he just let go, he could hold on to me.

So for a while he did, intimately,
Arms around me, holding so very tightly,
But while he stayed, embracing closely,
He thought he saw an invitation to be-

Something more, to move further than him and me,
But as he leaned in, thinking me alone, lonely,
I pushed him back, disillusioned, angry,
I needed space, and indeed so did he.

But when I was gone, he looked around to see,
that boulder, by the hill, sitting against a tree,
I wasn’t there to focus on, to distract or be-
a reason to not push that boulder free.

So he turned to the boulder, looking up to the sky,
And he left, not even stopping to say goodbye.
I cried when he left, not knowing why:
he kept pushing that boulder, ever one more try,

‘Cause I knew that boulder could never make him happy.

But I also knew the truth was neither could I,
Knowing he’d never find peace, I thought with a sigh,
Till he learned to let go, and let that boulder lie.


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Writing Byte #13: The Siege of the Storm

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People come to this lake to see serene scenery,
Ducks and geese that sail silently,
Smooth and quiet, still surface,
The water reflecting the sky.

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When I turn the last corner, I park and go still.
To see the action.
I'm here for a rock concert, a cage match and the Lord of the Flies' playground all in one.

The clouds rumble their way in, above, pushing and shoving their way to the front, blocking the view of the sun.
The waves form and clap in time.
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They're all assembled on the battlefield.

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