Answer me, Icarus

Answer me, Icarus.
Was it hubris that failed your wings,
That fateful day of long,
And let free such anguished wails,
That every bard held it’s echo for a song,
“Behold here, tis where Icarus fell,
Alone, as a sliver of star,
Who aimed for the sun one day,
But never reached even half so far.”

Answer me, Icarus,
What did you try to seek in the sun,
Was it one color, a different light,
Or desire to quietly burn,
To fall far off into the sea,
And flower somewhere deep,
And witness the layers of life;
As a man as awake as asleep.

Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

3 thoughts on “Answer me, Icarus”

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