Pale upon the window sill,
Trembling knees and face drawn.
Icarus stood quivering with fear,
Faced into the great unknown.
Down below little tiny ants,
The Cretan soldiers plied their beat.
Yonder is the sky so blue,
Clouds scurried by on noiseless feet.
On his arms, glistening in the sun,
The waxed feathers of a thousand birds.
Whom to follow, which was right,
Nature’s law, or his father’s words?
His homeland was a distant dream,
Crete was where he’d spent his years.
But Daedalus would have none of it,
The fatal words singed Icarus’ ears.
The sickening fall ,the frenzied flap,
Astonishment pushed his pupils wide.
“I’m flying”, he crowed to his father,
Daedalus’ eyes wore a mother’s pride.
High in the sky, like two harpies,
The sight left the tower guards dumbfound.
The tumult in Icarus ‘ racing heart ,
Was matched by the commotion on the ground.
Father and son flew side by side,
Free as birds, belying their fate.
Far from their prison, its solemn walls,
Adieu, accursed land of Crete!
Poseidon below in his splendor sprawled,
Sunbeams danced on his swelling crests.
Intoxicated by the open air,
Strange thoughts raced by in Icarus’ breasts.
As the import of his feat seeped in,
Father’s genius and luck he blessed.
Move over Hermes of the winged sandals,
Icarus is here to take your place.
Daedalus, quiet, in his hour of triumph,
Flew on to savor the freedom he’d won.
But Icarus, in his foolish pride,
Rose up high to reach the sun.
Pride, they say always hath a fall,
And so it was, Icarus fell.
From the warmth of blazing Apollo,
To the cold where mermaids dwell.
Daedalus watched his one son go,
From glorious flight to furious demise.
He’d tried in vain to dissuade him,
But could he stop Zeus’ ordain?
Daedalus flew on to Greece, his home,
No sign remained of the errant lad.
Save, forlorn on the ocean’s swell,
The waxy feathers of a thousand birds.
