Assistance for Sisyphus

We of the species of flesh, skin, and bones
Know the tedium of rolling our stones
To the top of all mountains with grumbles and groans,
Only to have them roll down again.
Ad infinitum, this cycle reprises.
This stone to the top and then down symbolizes
The meaningless nature of all enterprises
That humans at birth must begin.

Woe to Sisyphus! Woe to his seed!
A life of futility through charges decreed
By gods who are guilty of the very same deed
For which we stand indicted.
The stone, it is heavy. The slope, it is steep.
If only we had just one moment for sleep,
Or even the chance to just sit down and weep
For a love that has gone unrequited.

An eternity spent in a pointless endeavor,
Pushing up stones to the end of forever.
Wasting ourselves on this mission but never
Knowing the task completed.
Perhaps if just once there might be some relief?
Some assistance for Sisyphus, albeit brief,
Might beckon the species the uphold a belief
That the gods and their hate are defeated.

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