Still he smiles

There was once a man
Who challenged the gods

Questioned he their authority
Freedom he sought from their ideals
He wanted to be his own man
But still he failed in the end

Condemned now he lives
Trapped in an endless cycle
A prisoner

Everyday
His task is the same
A huge big rock to push
The top of the highest mountain his goal

And that done
He would watch
As that wretched stone
Rolled down the other side

Still down he is forced to trudge
For to stop would mean suffering
To the bottom of the mountain he goes
To push that cursed rock
Back up the mountain again

No rest
No stop
No respite
Except the occasional breeze
Cooling his hot breath
And the smell of fresh air
Scented with flowers

Over and over again
With seeming purposelessness he toils
Aware he is
That the endless cycle will go on
Throughout time infinite
Even death is not a factor
For he will live forever

But behold
Still he smiles
And takes a deep breath
Of the fresh, scented air

With an ironic laugh
He goes on
Knowing as he does
That he has won

His laugh rings loud in the silence.

*Adapted from The Myth of Sisyphus by Alfred Camus