The happy man toils, shaking his shaken body to the core
Stumbling he drives his useless trunk in the same direction he has gone
before.
The boulder, the rock of ages that is marked by centuries of toil still
rests upon his back
Lit like a motion picture in the swirling heat of Hades glimmering against
the river Styx.
Sisyphus toils, night and night for there is no day in hell.
No setting sun or rising dawn to illuminate his work to the world.
The rock, jagged like a cut throat, he pushes higher up the hill.
Higher and higher until it reaches such a point where all his effort can
push it no further.
Where the apex and the horizon bend to greet each other in swirling motion
And then the rock tumbles down.
The painting is blotted out by the painter.
Human memory forgets itself.
So down goes Sisyphus arms flaying as he finds himself at the bottom of the
hill.
He once stood at the summit of.
Like a falling stones in water that makes no sound.
Though he is resolute, he grins and shakes his hands and grips the rock
again.
He pushes it as he has done before. Up the hill step by step grinding
agony.
Till he reaches the top and.
Like predictable time he tumbles down. Sure as second reaches next second.

He's the happiest man in the world Sisyphus.
For when existence shrugs him off
And his goal is nearly reached
He fails and falls and all his work is undone by his own hand.
A life not filled with challenge is a life not filled with purpose.
To sit in numb silence and succeed, that is hell.
And have nothing to fight for and with. No aim, drifting upon a stormy sea
of illusions.
Apathetic reality is far worse then Sisyphus's task.
Calculating infinity.
A purpose that will last forever.
Futile blissful oblivion as the human form struggles up against that hill.
I'd do anything to be like him.
For what is there save the rock we push up the slope?
What is there save the feel of it sharp in our hands?
What is there but the challenge and the struggle?
The rock and the hill, for all that man can do, a man is still a man.
When closely examined, what is there save the challenge?
The roaring crowd exalting achievement is worthless without the toil.

So when I fail in life or am rejected by death.
Or have not succeeded in everything I ought to be.
Come to Hades and come to see me. It will be Sisyphus you see.