King Sisyphus, as I’ve heard tell,
Died and went down straight to hell.
Stan said “O, welcome sire,
For you I’ve punishment most dire,
Because you’ve been a bad, bad boy.
You’ve never brought your people joy.
Up that great hill you’ll push this stone
And mind, you’ll do it all alone.
You’ll push and shove, then near the top
The stone will roll back, plop, plop, plop.
You’ll never finish, no, not you.
There’ll be no end till the moon turns blue.
Don’t scowl at me, and stamp and bellow,
You’ve brought it on yourself, old fellow.
You lived in sin, it was your choice,
You didn’t heed that inner voice.
Get out! Begin your futile task,
Don’t look for help, you need not ask”
Three thousand years have come and gone
Still Sisyphus struggles with the stone.

Make sure, my brother, that your life
Does not end in that type of strife.
For once you’ve crossed the Great Divide
It’s then too late to turn and hide.
The Pearly Gates won’t open wide
To welcome you, with joy, inside.
Of course you know, because you’re clever,
Eternity is truly that – forever.

G.R. comber
Taree, NSW