I am become now despair,
as time gnaws at the raw edge of betrayal,
of self-directed anger.
I am become despair in the light of Reality,
Reality – that cruel bitch,
antithesis of karma-loving mediocrity.
I am lost to this isolation,
realization that I am insignificance,
in the vastness of infinite time,
Who was I pretending to be?
What seed bore the fruit of that presumption?
How did I…?
I must go now.
Reality has come,
and she has brought her lady-
and Duty is a mistress most harsh.
I return now to the task-
Sisyphus thinks only of the stone,
and leaves introspection to the philosopher.