A simple rubber ducky
plucked from a water-bucket
twirled the surface tension,
stirring broken promises.
Tectonic activity
and brute Coriolis forces
threw the sleeping monster,
Minotaur, upon ochre clouds.
Crazily aroused, he rampaged,
in this unexpected setting,
tramping clay underfoot
relying on primitive reflexes
instead of containing his anger.
The stench of sweat,
and the fear of failure,
trapped him in a mortal
brawl of self doubt.
Still maddened, and bellowing
vexatious oaths, he burnished
an enamelled labyrinth
into his lonely sarcophagus.
Hearts emptied of childhood
dreams, replaced myths with other
tenets, messed with phobias and
prejudice to colour this
grand opus, this time on earth.
I am seeking your comments on this piece. Is it too oblique? Perhaps you find it gloomy. It will help me if you take time to pen a comment. Thank you
Inshore Cassandra 