And Icarus extended his wings.
He flew—close, too close,
too close to a beauty that burns.
And he fell.
Forever remembered as a bold, ambitious dreamer,
Icarus was just a lover.
He didn’t die failing to reach something greater;
no one saw the smile on his face during the fall.
He fell staring at the sky, looking up,
never fighting the wind or gravity.
He flew his way to the sun,
then let his body fall to the sea.
And that’s my Icarus—
the one who smiled at the fall,
who embraced the freedom
of being utterly, beautifully carefree.
Just for a moment the one it took him to drown.