midnight silence
as my cursor blinks nonstop
beneath the weight
of a writer's boulder ...
still I haul this thought uphill
FYI: Ls 3-5 allude to the myth of Sisyphus, and "Philosopher Albert Camus used this myth as a metaphor for the absurdity of the human condition, suggesting that individuals can find meaning by consciously accepting the futility of their struggles and living with passion." And the ending of his 1942 philosophical work, The Myth of Sisyphus:
"I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."
And this tanka could be read as the prequel to the following:
drenched
in sweat and hot tears
I push, pushing
the last line of my tanka
out into this October light 😅
Added: Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXLVI: "skeletal houses"
thunderheads ...
a row of skeletal houses
heavy with silence
