Prometheus, Sisyphus, and us

I am not a

god: my myths

will die with

me. I will

fall asleep

with hope

and wake up

to a punishment

with no crime;

another boulder to

push or be tied

to. A day will

fall into a year

around me, as I

tear through this

vessel as if another

is waiting for

me, wishing I

had brought fire

to Earth, so I could

stay warm when

the morning comes.