you fancy yourself a Sisyphus:
(confined)to a single boulder
on a single hill—for the rest of eternity.
you sigh a heavy sigh, as(gleaming
with sweat)your arms,back,legs are strained
with the quintessential effort—to rest
the boulder at the summit&receive freedom.
you reach the top,but then:rolling/tumbling
in a fruitless war against gravity
the boulder comes down the other side,
gaining speed&bringing you back to being,
once again,one excruciating climb from liberation.
the catch in your romanticized plan
(as I watch your elegiac walk to the bottom,
to begin for an infinite time)is that
with your final groan of pain&exhaustion&
I saw you push the boulder down the hill.
(some people trap themselves.)