ICARUS (The Greek Mythology)

There Icarus stood moments fore he flew
The blood of triumph flowing through his veins
He was unimpeded and ready to be free
Neither too close nor too far he was told to fly

He discorded and chose the other
He soared towards the burning sight
The wax liquified against his feathers
The feathers parted from and against his hands
The beauty of burning was sweeter when
you yourself craved the end

Icarus threw his head back laughing
Shall’nt anyone know he was never naive
He craved the light, the blitzing and
daunting power of the sun.
There is a certain pleasure in handling out
the match, when you’re covered in gasoline
with trembling hands.