The Minotaur

I have always been struck by the sad countenance of the Minotaur, trapped in the darkness, master of his obscure world of shadow and melancholy.

Minos, son of the Greek mythological god Zeus and Europa, sought approval from the gods that he should reign as king of Crete. He prayed to Poseidon who sent him a snow white bull as a sign of his blessing on the condition the animal was sacrificed as an offering and symbol of servitude. Minos however secretly kept the bull and sacrificed another from his heard. When Poseidon learned of this he cast a spell on Minos' wife, Pasipha, so she fell in love with the white bull. Their offspring was the Minotaur. The creature had the head and tail of a bull on the body of a man and caused such destruction, a labyrinth was made that would entrap the beast. Every year young people were sacrificed for the Minotaur to feast upon. When Ariadne, Minos's daughter, was chosen to be offered, Theseus, who Ariadne had fallen in love with, traveled to the maze, battled, then defeated the Minotaur. Theseus found his way back through the labyrinth with the help of Ariadne's ball of thread. Theseus then returned to Crete, raising black sails, a sign he had failed in his quest, at which point king Minos threw himself into the sea in despair. Theseus' deception secured him the throne...

The story of the Minotaur says as much about the ruthlessness and destruction of man as it does the Minotaur's ferocity. The Minotaur represents our fear, our unknown or perhaps hidden darkness. In this light the beast is a reflection of our inner struggle, and that there may be moments when we meet this ordinarily concealed creature face to face...

At the heart of every snowflake is a nucleus of dust. This tiny particle could originate from any number of places: the smoke from a forest fire; the minute specks of volcano ash that are pushed into the high atmosphere; the fine debris that falls from a meteor as it streaks across the sky; the microscopic particles picked up by the wind from plant spores and the cells of feather and skin that living things shed each day.

I ponder on the journey of a particle of dust. The dust from one living thing to another.

From someone standing on a hill looking skyward, from distant sand, and then for days across an ocean far below, until on high, ice crystals enfold and change the particle of dust to form a single snowflake that lightly tumbles to the earth and, after time, comes to fall upon my palm. I sense its cold but cannot feel its weight. like the image that accompanies the poem, it is as light as light itsesf, waiting to be known by the warmth of my attention. I easily ignore a solitary snowflake, yet its journey can be as great as any I have made.

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A Solitary Snowflake Falls

A speck of dust from soil or sand,

From powder down or loose brushed skin,

Encased within its centre lays,

A prick from past of living thing.

As snowflake falls,

The grain returns in shallow husk of crystal white,

Come gently lay upon this earth,

In wait and warmth in day or night.

ORIGINATOR · Mike de Sousa

ART FORM · Figurative Art

COMPLETED · 2014

Free to enjoy. Copyright maintained. Not to be used for ai or commercial gain.

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