finding oneself

Sisyphus pushes the rock up the mountain;
I push it down.
Not that I wish to.
But the burden of the cargo that
uncomfortably balances itself on my shoulder
covers my eyes with cold sweat
creating crevices of burn and blood.
Yet, if I am to be left free
I will go beyond where Sisyphus had not reached:
fly to the top of the heavens
rocket-fast, charging the winds
with all desire and will
carrying with me the burden
I wish not to bear but decided.
My heart burns wild in frenzy
as I focus my gaze on the Star
accompanying me anywhere I go
seducing me to climb the mountain of my sweet doom
giving me stronger wings to further fly.
For my heart finds its rest
in the constant climbing and flying.