The Imbecile thought he could fly. Like a bird at dawn soaring away from the solid ground we call home.
It may have been satisfactory at the initial departure, but he soon got a big ego, with the thought, and accomplishment of flying.
His father warned him not to fly too high, for the feathered wings were joined together with wax--meltable wax. And the sun, so adjacent to them.
He didn't listen though. To his father, the inventor, the one who designed and constructed the Labyrinth. The greatest architect of the century.
He flew higher and higher, surpassing most of the clouds.
The wax with liquefying by the second.
Even with his fathers warnings he didn't realize before it was too late, he was already plummeting to the dark embrace of the water so rapidly he didn't have time to do anything before he was enveloped into the salty waters, of the Icarian Sea.
The father, with nothing left of his son but the feathers, of the once been wings.
YOU ARE READING
Icarus's Descent
PoetryThis is a poem I wrote that was inspired by the Greek tale of Icarus and his father Daedalus. I had found a great piece of artwork titled "The Descent of Icarus" please look it up and be inspired too! *Feel free to comment!* QueenSigyn19
