Icarus Flew

By J Bengt

Icarus fell.
With the wind in his hair and wax burning
his skin, he cried out with unrestrained joy.
He was drunk on freedom and high on the
open air.  Olympus shivered at the sight: A 
dying boy with hunger in his eyes and 
teeth bared to the sky.

Icarus fell.
He was not sorry.  He was not afraid. Even 
when the unforgiving sea embraced him
for the last time.

Icarus fell, yes, but it was clear that
mattered not to him, because before he
fell,

Icarus flew.