It was late in the night.
The moon was high in the spotted night sky.
It was then my mind reflected on the power of the sun.
The sun, a force of nature, the giver of life on earth.
An ever burning mass of gas and fire.
And as my mind does, it wandered from there to the story of Icarus.
Son of Daedalus the master craftsmen and creator of the labyrinth that held minotaur.
Young Icarus underestimated the all-powerful sun.
He trod on her domain, trespassed on a sacred land that did not belong to him.
Icarus flew under the sun fearlessly and foolishly.
Ignoring his father’s words of wisdom, he spread his wings out proudly.
He basked in the sunlight, letting his ego, and pride distract him from the softening wax.
Feathers fluttering off his wings flashed before my eyes.
Hot wax trailing down his legs burning his still fresh juvenile skin.
The feeling of fear piercing his heart as he falls into the ocean.
Feels the air rushing past him as he falls.
He goes limp, knowing there’s no escaping as he falls.
Eyes close knowing he has fallen.
Man’s fatal flaw.
Smart enough to fly.
Stupid enough to fall.