The Final Gambit of Sisyphus

Yes, this is an original poem. Enjoy (at least, I hope you do).

I

It’s getting smaller.

I realized this a century ago or so,

when the stone fell into the great fissure the first time.

I wonder it was once so big as to roll over that rip in the earth;

during my more recent climbs, I must stop

and carry my punishment each time we cross.

Its surface is smooth, its imperfections worn away.

But this makes no difference;

I push onward

and follow as it rolls down the mountain.

II

I am rid of the stone;

Aeolus took pity and cast it away.

What was once a boulder became a pebble,

then a particle of sand.

Now I stare after it,

immobile and unsure,

learning to regret my rejection of Hades.