O Sisyphus

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O Sisyphus

Poem

Each day I begin again the clamber over steep incline,
Emerging from dream store and long buried clamour.
The daily trail of common day sets my course and way,
In old familiar gestures unearth a subtle poise’s dearth,
A shift of some emphasis skews balance of my askesis.
A seeming virtue’s proclamation gives way to a ruination,
A harsh shunning reprieve some goodness does retrieve. 
The will sows in tiny deeds coming transformation’s seeds,
I see, assent and follow its swift trailing shadow.
I lug a load of earth lodged within since body’s birth,
My wings seem all chained to the sloth of solid ground.
O Sisyphus, of labours symbolic, to thy travails I am sympathetic.