I thought I knew, a thousand days ago,
the secret to the wisdom of my age.
But I let go the clue where I don’t know
and now I find myself within a maze.
I need to pause and recollect the thread
I dropped distracted by my grand success –
it’s up to me to mend the yarn instead
of playing it, and smooth its knotty mess.

The minotaur, who crouches at the core
of labyrinth, is not as fierce as I.
The monster fed will only howl more
and endlessly, and neither laugh nor cry
until I see him, free him, leap aboard
and ride him out with thread instead of sword.