Poem: Whip of the Sisyphus …


and the new morning comes
… the new day is born … new
stone is born … the same
stone … the same hill …
again and again …
until the end of your light …
armed with nothing
but hope …

yes hope … the neverending
whip of Sysiphus …

Sabrina

And the new morning comes
… new day is born …
and again with what is left
from your flesh and your thought
you build the world around you …
only in the evening
to be smashed once more
into pieces …
those dreams …
only pieces of your broken day
… broken past … broken wish …
glued into nonsense …
broken promises …
until all that is left is
nothing but darkness

and yet, you build it
you roll the stone up
that hill … over and
over again … again and
again …

and the new morning comes
… the new day is born … new
stone is born … the same
stone … the same hill …
again and again …
until the end of your light …
armed with nothing
but hope …

yes hope … the neverending
whip of Sysiphus …

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