Persona Non Grata: At the Broken Trough

Whatever I do — a miss.
Whatever I say — out of place...
Never to become
Uninteresting for my wife’s critique!

When it is time trouble,
Zugzwang and mate at every move —
To strike with the dark bishop
makes no sense, back and forth...

Offers of peace, of fighting draws
sink into non‑being, like Sisyphus’ toil —
Without a gesture in return,
without the trembling hand of a spouse, cold in the night...

Zen Echo
I. Praise — and again
the stone rolls down:
In the silence of misunderstanding — a bitter taste.

II. The trough is empty,
yet in it the sky is reflected —
a quiet consolation.

III. The exile fell silent, no longer casting pearls of words before anyone,
He left the game, tearing from his soul the shameful catch.
Though the trough is broken, its silence is now no prison,
But a song in which Sisyphus is finally free of chains.

"Even praise, when stripped of measure, becomes the stone you must roll uphill once more."