Kingsbrae 13.4
13 June 2017
Icarus
Such a miracle,
those first steps
of the sea-bird’s flight,
lurching his launch
over troubled water.
That first step heavy,
the second lighter,
and the third
scarcely
a paint brush
pocking the waves.
Deep within me,
I sense the need
to fly, to soar, to rise
high in the sky
and seek the sun.
I don’t care
if the sun’s heat
melts the wax
that binds my wings
and sends me
tumbling down,
a shooting star
falling
from the firmament.
A second sun,
I’ll be,
stunning in my sunset,
burning a glorious
path to death in my decline.