Thursday, 2 July 2015


Why ‘re thee like Sisyphus
Rolling a rock to the top
Of a hill non-stop?
Would it not be alluring
To see the low-hanging fruits?
Water recedes at thy thirst
And fruits climb up, when hungry
Why are thee in a lake?
The world, where the wickeds rot,
Gather thy spirit
And ask the Gods for reason
What mistake is thine
To steal the manna for the world?
There were feasts while thy meet,
There were secrets at thy greet,
Let them not punish thee in thy court
For the undaunted spirit
To help and be helped,
Where a real joy stays in.

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