Minotaur

Whatever my provenance,
I'm an image in your mind,
that ancient maze:
a god hungry for sacrifice,
a conscious animal trapped
in the anguish of flesh.
I do not dwell at the centre,
for that is the way out …
You will come upon me
like a random memory.
We may clash, try to resolve
what cannot be resolved;
we may ignore each other.
After, you can go, I must stay …
I have so much time to think
here in the silver darkness,
I begin to see the maze entire,
sense you threading towards me,
feel what look your face will wear
when at last you behold me —
sitting on my throne embedded
in dung, singing softly to myself,
knowing so much, so little.