Sisyphus Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Caissons, the endless march
Wheels of Sisyphus
The ancient serpent writhes
Eminence illusion of anthropology
No movements seem to last
No God on our side
No sectarian temple

We are pulled inward
We await the seventh day

Today the boughs stretch like kings
Bliss transcends all politics
Serene wings of balance
Let them roll their rocks up hills
Glorious blue thrives
Edifice of stars
Hope
Sisyphus is the world