A MOTORBIKE AT KNOSSOS
(in memory of Hilaire Belloc)
The chief defect of Arthur Glee
was unrestrained velocity.
Let’s listen to his final story
even though it’s rather gory.
Arthur rode a bike of chrome and red,
filled onlookers’ hearts with mortal dread,
for he had sworn that he must go
to see the island grotto below
where the Minotaur in darkness dwelled
deep down within a stony hell,
his awful bellow the only sound
in that grisly underground,
and Arthur raced through ruined halls
and never hit a single wall.
But speed is such a fickle thing,
as Arthur learned, while wandering.
The labyrinth, built of stone and myth,
was something he would reckon with.
He sped past pillars, tall and wide,
with nothing but a desire inside
to prove that modern speed and gear
can conquer every ancient fear.
“The Labyrinth!” he roared with pride,
and threw the throttle open wide.
But as he leaned into the curve,
he lost his grip (and then his nerve).
For history is a heavy weight
on those who challenge it too late.
He struck a wall of Minoan brick
and though a rescue team was very quick
they found that Arthur, in his haste,
had gone most thoroughly to waste.
The surgeons, with astounding skill,
repaired his frame against his will.
With plastic, steel, titanium plate,
they mended his unhappy state
until, like Theseus’ famous ship,
he’d lost his true identity’s grip.
Was he the boy who crashed the bike
or something more… robotic-like?
Now tourists stand in frozen lines
beneath the Mediterranean pines,
while Arthur ponders, strange and grim,
with nothing left that was part of him.
The Moral:
If you must visit ancient sites,
do not go chasing bullish frights.
For he who races through the past
will find himself replaced at last.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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