Bernard Page 2       still hearing the echoes of the weeping that come     from the maze's mouth, where the others cower,        crowd, and wait     their turn in the labyrinth, their death duel with the        Minotaur. The line tugs. Where does it go? It slackens again~who    bound it to the one Greek they promised would kill that abortion,    the bull-man~   as if I had no soul, no mind, no heart, no memory   of happiness under the sun's gaze, and only howl and      snort,   bucking my horns on the rocks in an agony of memory   of those few weeks I knew the light and warmth of day. It tugs again, and thrums~he is looking for me, this    Theseus,     with his smooth face, his eyes shining with bald terror, imagining me~one hand trembling on the rock face, the    other     sweating at the end of the thread.                                             The thread! it may lead                    back to the maze's entrance, escape           out of this stinking darkness into the air and sun, the immensity of light and breath of cloud, the sweet    moon, the high sky above me~could it?                                   Of course, it could!                                                       Someone~a lover?