Written after reading the description of the painting Oedipus and the Sphinx by Gustav Moreau
The Sphinx has fallen on him with her teeth and nails outstretched, and all the savagery of life. Oedipus collapsed beneath her first assault, her first appearance terrifying him - he'd never dreamt of such a form or such a voice 'til then. But though the monster rests her paws upon his chest, he quickly pulls himself together - and he isn't frightened any more, because he's got the answer ready, and will triumph. Yet he takes no joy in victory. His melancholy-laden gaze is not upon the Sphinx, but far away, upon the narrow road which leads to Thebes, and which will finish at Colonus. And in his mind a clear foreboding that the Sphinx will speak to him again with riddles that are vaster, and more difficult, and answerless.
( to the contents page.)