The Minotaur

The Minotaur

The murderous beast haunts these corridors.
Its days must be closed, and its name reserved for stories.
Peering around every corned my breath is stilled and quiet,
for to hunt it one must fear it first.

Long have I stalked these pathways on the hunt.
I find its sign, see its leavings and victims, but yet it eludes me.
Is it as lost as I find myself?
Or does it stay just out of sight?

These endless walls of stone keep out light and rain.
Day and night are long since blended,
and sleep is too dangerous to be welcomed.
Can it hear my breathing in the dark?

I forget why it must die, I can only remember that it must.
We circle each other by stealth and sign and guess and instinct.
I learn its ways and make them my own.
Is it doing the same?

Rain and light splash into a pool on the floor.
The danger of being blinded by the brightness
is overwhelmed by thirst.
I listen and search the area for sign, for safety.

Breath stilled, I inch closer to the pool.
Looking up, sunlight cascades through a hole in the ceiling, far out of reach.
I crouch to the pool to drink,
And with my reflection see that my hunt is over.





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