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Each day I play the role of Sisyphus. I roll my rock out of bed and leave home. Sometimes I wish I was alive in this New world so different from Greece and Rome.
“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” Albert Camus
Pages upon pages and pages and pages and pages appear on his desk before he is done for the night; he stays, and he works, until the clock strikes eleven. Eyes bleary,
Sissy-fits pushed his rock around the hallways. He pushed his rock around his home Sissy-fits pushed and pushed and pushed his rock. His rock never felt at home. His rock always needed to be moved.
Since the widespread industrialization In every town and home Someone is chained to their life
There’s a bolder on a hill Every sunset it rolls Down and down and down Crushing any goals And every night and every day
Informed; I pack my deserted island duffle bag Like Icarus and Sisyphus I set my feet to sand Action cannot exist as past, and my time is at hand Whether fall, fail or crumble I have nothing but my will