Hello, folks! I'm back with a new poem :)
We're all familiar with the myth of Icarus, son of the extremely skilled craftsman Daedalus, the boy who flew too close to the sun and paid for it dearly. It's often used as a cautionary tale, to advise people to not soar too high, too fast. My poem is inspired by this tale. Please read it and let me know your thoughts!
Long, long ago, when gods and monsters walked among men,
There lived a young lad called Icarus.
You must have heard of him; everyone has--
The little upstart who thought he could conquer the sun
Only to have his wings burnt off by the sun's regal fury.
It's said he fell into the sea.
"Do not be like Icarus," they told me
When my wings began to sprout.
"Do not give in to temptation; soaring through the skies is forbidden."
Every night, they would tell me of Icarus's gruesome end, twisting the tale to suit themselves;
But I found myself strangely unfazed.
Every morning, I would reach out through the dismal little window,
Feeling the warmth of the sun's rays on my fingers.
How could one so gentle and loving burn a boy for simply dreaming?
My wings grew, as did their fear and hatred.
When I finally escaped their clutches and flew toward the distant little ball of light,
They shot me with fire arrows and brought me hurtling down.
Then they clipped my wings and chained me, but all I could think of was this:
The sun did not burn or punish me.
They did.
Through these dark and lonely days, only the faintest glimmers of sunlight buoyed me.
"Don't give up," they whispered. "Come to us."
My clipped wings grew anew, stronger and lovelier than ever before--
Gold and crimson and purple,
as though molded by the sun's loving hands.
Now, I knew that I could beat the darkness.
With an almighty effort I shattered the fetters,
And gave my wings one massive flap.
Up I went-- like a shooting star across the night sky;
And this time, although I heard their cries and the whistle of their arrows,
not a single one could graze me.
It felt like an eternity before I felt the first faint rays of the sun,
Giving my tired wings new life.
I cannot be tired when I am so close, I thought, as my eyes scanned the horizon.
It is said that mortals cannot withstand the sun's imperial splendour;
They go blind, mad, or fall into the sea.
But not me-- it was right there,
A huge ball of heat, light, and hope.
Terrifying, to be sure-- I felt its heat on my wings-- but also so beautiful and loving,
Just like my dreams.
As I drew closer, do you know what I saw?
Within the massive rays of the sun, there was a boy
with hair and wings made of flame.
He was crimson and gold and purple,
and he seemed to be saying "Come, come."
Closer and closer I drew, till the sun pulled me into its embrace.
Neither Icarus nor I fell into the sea; we lay within the sun's warmth, becoming
Beings of heat and light and dreams.
And here we stay for all eternity.
So, young ones, let this be a lesson to you.
Fly-- fly as high as you can,
Dream as much as you can,
And become creatures of warmth, glory, and love.
