Like Sisyphus,
this boulder is ours
His lot is robed in a trifling cloak;
thinks the brainwashed wise,

My essence; guide,
these retinas engulf like sun rays
upon the direction drawn,
*Chi'm lead me on,

This humble lad consumes eagerness,
like the impatient monocot
beneath loamy cloudy sheets,
Awaiting the march of the pelting storm.

*personal god/guardian angel



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