Sisyphus stands as a metanym

For all human experience.

Pushing a heavy stone up a hill…

An empty, futile gesture:-

From all his own aggrandisement

To his own pointless task,

It is all for nothing

All for nothing :

So wipe your forehead

Rest your stone on a ledge

and raise your fist

to the Bloodless sky,

To all the heart’s

that rise to joy…

For all is fallacy!

Or is it?

Or is it that the facile task

gives the essence of the exquisite?

A diamond is the smallest part of the lode

Gold is found as a sliver in the sand…

Beauty is only valued

when surrounded by dross.


So we must keep pushing the stone…

We must sigh, rub our hands together

And take a grip on that damnable rock.

Accept that for the longest time

All is just a morass…

But keep toiling for the moment

when a flower peeks through the road

Pecks out between the shale

And catches your heart…

That little piece of your soul

Which sings out from the pain.

A single point. A counter-point to the

Brash atonal cacophony of life…

This is the reason, Sisyphus,

The only reason,

To keep on pushing that stone,

And running up that hill.


Copyright Dale Beck 2018.



3 thoughts on “THE SISYPHUS GAMBIT

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