innards surmount moirae

As individuals, we are so meager,

Such insignificance, baseness— you see:

We chortle loftily at titan cedars,

Yet they fall, and death by tree.

.

Believing we are magnanimous,

The cardinal, the ace of spears;

But willows whisper, thus unanimous

Are mortals living upon spheres.

.

We have no say, in ebb and flow,

Yielding to depths of holy sea,

Or do we? Curb of tides forgo—

Still, innards and organs are free.

.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy,

But why, not sad or chagrined?

Our lion enfolds the unhappy,

And his innards rejoice with the wind.

.

He is loose, rebelling the fate

That the Gods so callously threw—

By creating meaning, he dares to dictate

That which Creator made new.  

.

How would the stubborn, absurdist hero

Behave upon seeing Moirae?

In chains, he’d laugh from Hades’ window, 

His scorn surmounting moray.

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