“Sisyphus Hill” by jack Kimball

Three climber's souls rested safely, sinfully late,  
on the shoulders of Sisyphus, at summit’s gate.

Broad head of ice; forever moving;
veins blue broken, crevasses deep; deadly soothing,
coming one, two, like no other each,
summing one, two, with lessons to teach.

They watched, they waited, they climbed anyway,
one fell, one clung, and when all swept away,
the lesson learned, they all had to pay,
when Satan slept before dawn drew day.

Yes, lives were due, mortality’s bill;
so they now push boulders to shoulders on Sisyphus Hill.
They sorrow not, absurdity’s still;
content to put shoulders to boulders, for eternity till.