Grassington Minotaur (II)

 

Across its name are scattered stars

Which spiral round its buried heart,

And sear into its awful hide

The marks of its divided soul.

 

Its bellowed cries are heard for miles

Across the ruined moor-top mines

When twice a month the moon has horns,

And mocks the wreck which sobs beneath.

 

A hundred years they fed its lust

For sacrifice and poisoned blood,

Then left it trapped below the spoils

To howl as only monsters howl.

 

Although the stars which brand it shine,

Its fate is lived through buried shame.

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