Sometimes, even when provided with the most excellent reasons to have hope, I struggle with the futility that seems engrained in the world around me. This poem is a frustratingly incomplete explanation, but it gets at the feeling of the thing. The mention of Sisyphus is a reference to Albert Camus’s essay “The Myth of Sisyphus.”
Here we go.
Just play the game.
Go through your day,
And play the game.
Walk to class,
Do your work,
Eat a meal,
Play – the –
Why am I doing this?
Why am I here?
This pretense, charade
they seem to believe.
I try to find joy
In the work of my hands,
In Sisyphus’s descent,
In the effort he spent.
But the groan is a presence
To loud to ignore
so playing the game’s
not enough anymore.
