Mystic Whispers: Labyrinth

 


In the half-lit 
twistings, turnings… 
Stink of bull shit… 
Heaven’s burnings 
in the gut, the very soul… 

What is this, that 
you are seeking, 
Hero, 
here among the reeking 
passages 
that twist around, 
and lead you into 
cul-de-sacs, 
hemmed in by walls 
marked with the axe, 
double-headed and 
two-faced…? 

Once upon a time you raced– 
in sunlight gleaming off the sea 
you sweated in your lissome grace, 
by the age-twisted cypress tree, 
stood tall and young and full of years 
and watched the galleys tribute-full– 
of youths, of maids, of parting tears 
and carrying a nation’s fears– 
with black sheets sail 
to serve the Bull… 

Turn and twist, 
and shy 
and hold… 
hide in shadow… 
leap out bold–!
sword swings…
sings out 
to strike– 
just air…

You hunt a thing 
you know is there… 
deep-descending 
to its lair… 
Moving canny, 
grip the thread 
that guides you out 
if you’re not dead… 

a distant hostile 
rumbling 
and cries of woe, 
and grumbling 
of monster 
finding frightened meat… 

The Beast would rather 
waving wheat, 
and basking in 
the radiant heat 
of white ground 
tossing back the sun… 

But that is not how this is done… 

This labyrinth
pleases no one here, 
it twists with pain, 
it reeks of fear, 
and no one, 
so it would appear, 
does what he will… 

But– 
there’s this Destiny 
to fulfill… 

No need to say, it won’t end well

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