I can’t see over the hilltop.

It’s probably rimmed with sparse pickings, little trimmings of precious sky come and gone. Depending on when I get up, there might be soft, thin swaths of red and orange—or flat, wide strokes of light blue—or even thick, fat strokes of ivory. Past that, there might be cities and kingdoms, trees and forests, or vast expanses of nothing.

I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen.

I don’t know exactly what I’d see, but I can imagine. I’ve been up there enough times. The grass is always damp and ticklish and little dewdrops wet my undersides enough for refreshment, right before I descend. Invisible hands seize me, invisible feet kick me, and an invisible voice laughs as I’m pulled by godly gravity. It hurts, really does. And for what? I can’t see over the hilltop.

Hey, don’t laugh.

You’re the one pushing me. I roll down, but every time, you’re the one sprinting after me. You can’t quit either, and don’t lie. I saw what happened when you gave up once.

Keep pushing, now. The first time, you almost died, but today you’re a little stronger. Keep pushing. The sun is nice and warm.

You know, I almost admire you. While I’m sunbathing, you’re positively shriveled! Roasted and burnt into dark brown bits, and for what? You can’t see over the hilltop either.

You’re perseverant now, but things will change. One day you’ll give up. You’re like every other person, trying for a goal, a goal without a reward. You’re not free. We’re nearing the top now, by the way. Just a little longer. You’re getting faster.

We’re almost there! The air is fresh and cool and we can see little bits of light dance through the trees. If you take one more step, we can see past the hilltop. One more step—you can do it.

There, yes. Lift your foot, and—

Oh, it’s happening. Never mind. All the way back down. Don’t cry, friend, it’s useless. We know how this works. And you’re chasing after me. I see your face carved in anguish. I’m sorry. You’ll have to push me up again.

I didn’t see over the hilltop, but we’ll try again. We can only work with what we’re given—I can only rely on you. We’ve tried and tried and we’ll keep going because that’s how it was and how it is and how it will be…Won’t we, Sisyphus?