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