Pushing Stones

Sisyphus In Reverse

Mathematics, ingenuity and cunning
Have transported stones of backbreaking immensity
Steadily, albeit slowly up
Steeply inclined planes to perch majestically
Atop invisible peaks oft obscured by clouds
These steeple-like land masses
Mark the glacier-clad apex of this spinning orb
We call home for now so driven by desire


We believe these rocks will always be there
These beacons of hope
Will always be calling us forth
To cities of imagined emeralds
A shining citadel for all we hold dear

So sure are we of this styrofoam cliche
We scoff at millionaire’s mansions
Remind ourselves how evolved and enlightened
We are as we watch our clay feet
Carry us down the path
Until an hour or so later
The morning’s breakfast reminds us
Of what we use and what we leave behind

Approaching the parking lot
We smirk as we salute the infinity pool
Near the trailhead only later vaguely recalling
A relevant snippet from Schopenhauer:

          Everyman takes the limits of his mind
          To be the limits of the universe


Back in our prefabricated community
At the other end of the avenue
It takes a day or two for the irony to arrive

On one side little dogs bark
Without meaning or measure
While the submissive pit bull on the other
Leaves what’s left of lunch on the lawn

As I approach she bolts back
Towards the freshly manicured garden
She now calls home clipping in the process
One of our solar–powered walkway lamps
Being circular the edited illumination
Rolls down the driveway and across
The street coming to rest in the gutter
Still radiating light I bend to retrieve
This latest casualty in the war on darkness
Turn to head back inside when I see
The single mom momentarily flustered
Before her sleek silver coach which has been
Backed into its parking space in a garage
Not reminiscent of normal chaos or compromise
She turns her palms to the sky
As if holding up an invisible burden she offers
An amiable though half-hearted explanation:

“We’re trying to train her…”

Remembering the trailhead rules
I smile weakly and to no one
In particular I imagine a reply:

“To do what?”

“And for what purpose?”


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