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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Daidalos played with poison and the gormandizing mind of a king corrupting DNA with his brilliance. Poseidon’s patronage, issues from unknown depths of depravity. Pasiphae bore this monstrosity and carried the shame as women do. AyeeeI The minds of men bent inwards without love, cannot find creation... so seek destruction as compromise. Convoluted cage of sacrifice, diabolical maze of mutilation, how many maidens and young men wander these halls of Hades lost beyond Persephone’s care or Hecate’s lamplit pathway home? Asterion they called him, to fool the masses, as rulers and scientists are wont to do. He was an abomination, left over from Atlantean arrogance, whipped into a frenzy with a poisonous brew of fungi and root administered by his keepers, this Taurean, this bull man, this Minotaur, devouring the hope of all within sailing distance. His sister, sweet Ariadne, raised on the pain and terror, weaned on the screams of the victims, and the unfathomable misery of her brother, devised a plan to end his life of hell. The Gods of creation sent Theseus, the golden, the brave one, from the Eastern shores and she charmed him into trusting her. With his life in her hands, she held a ball of the finest spun wool, from Demeter’s flocks, and showed him the way through hell. Past the bones and rotting flesh of the sons and daughters of despair, past the gnashing and scarring of imprisoned demons, and through the hopelessness of the devious design of entrapment, he journeyed, trusting, she held his way safely in her hands. He found her brother, captive in his lair, already foaming and insane having drunk the brew Daidalos concocted for him to twist his feeble mind. Imprisoning his senses in addiction blood-lust and depravity was sharpened as the finest sword. The frenzy the great men craved and created for their pleasure revealed here as the monster it was. So with great pity, compassion giving him a clear head and steady hand, Theseus slew Ariadne’s brother and so released the lands from the slavery of terror. That fine wool, soft in the hand as spiders silk, and as strong as faith, led him out to a hero’s welcome and a legacy hung in the night sky for all to remember. Basking in God status, he sailed home to celebrate his glory. Ariadne, mourning the life of her brother, the corruption of her father, the vacant eyes of her Mother, and the abandonment of her lover flung herself into the sea as a final sacrifice to Poseidon’s hunger.
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