What if the stone didn’t roll?
What if it stayed perfectly still
Balanced and perfect
On top of the mountain
What would be left
To do in this place?
What are the things
I’d be able to make?
A beautiful city
Of marble and rock
And Sisyphus’ stone
Still balanced on top
A dream that’s sent crashing
Like stone to the ground
The old man descends
To start the next round
A Life in Poems 