Sisyphus’ Eternal Return – Sometimes Myths are True
by Sabrina Dawkins
Albert Camus consoled himself in hell
at that heavy rock
with poetic, beautiful words
because he didn’t know
what he was looking at.
He squinted and saw
artistic shapes of orange
that he thought was a painting.
But when the picture became clear
to the followers of Christ,
it was night
and flames were held
behind an unconsumed fence:
the separation from God.
But the true Christians,
held in Abraham’s bosom,
looked through the fence
at flames whose heat
couldn’t touch them:
the great gulf between
the children of God
and the children of sin,
who trust in monopoly money
on their green flag
of printed inflation
and worship men
who throw balls,
and pretend,
and turn hell into a marvelous painting
with the pen
of the demon who came to Nietzsche
and called him a “speck of dust”
doomed to eternal recurrence,
whom Nietzsche revered as a god.
“The Greatest Weight”
symbolized by a rock
and meaningless task
for each incarnation
without memory of one’s past
crushed the carnal minds
of the sons of the father of the lie,
making them break out in insanity’s song
in mistaking hell for a work of art,
to try to cope,
these famous writers
who no longer know who they are.