Here is the poem that goes along with the Minotaur drawing. Its supposed to be a little silly, but also have a serious side at the same time.
The Minotaur paced round and round
his high-walled hallway home.
Endless walls to wander past,
and endless halls to roam.
Now anger is not the natural state
of any living creature,
And so his eyes, once red with blood,
had earned a gentle feature.
And so his footfalls, though once they fell
with murderous intent,
so now a much more pleasant purpose
to the self-same stones present.
As caretaker and as guardian,
he wanders all alone,
trimming moss from countless crags
and cleaning blood from bone.
And so in endless tedium
his hours turned to years
longing for a human voice
to warm his lonely ears.
But then, what’s this?
A single, solitary, solid string, strung taut!
“Another creature wanders here,”
The colossal fauna thought.
“But why the string?
And who, and what, and how?”
So on his bestial countenance,
a furrowed bestial brow.
“The string leads to the exit,
The creature seeks to leave.
Such a pleasant lifting of my smothering ennui.
Such a pleasant lifting, but such a short reprieve.”
Just then, clear strand, soft grace—
a spider stalked it prey.
And so the beast-man understood,
that he would die that day.
And yet, to see another face,
even one of hate,
would be enough to cause this beast
to calmly meet his fate.
So cold and still these years had been.
So heavy was his chest.
The Minotaur stood up at last
and ran to meet his guest.
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