The Icarus Theory

the story of icarus

The Icarus Theory

They said I had wings. 

My feathers stitched of ash, 

Bones light enough to defy gravity. 

They told me to fly.

But I know how that story ends. 

It was not the fall that killed Icarus.

It was the flight-

The hunger, the reach, the greed. 

They never say what burned first, 

The wax or the want.

So I stayed grounded. 

I felt the wind whisper my name, 

And the heavens sneer down, waiting 

For their lost potential.

I never answered. 

Better to be nothing 

than to be a cautionary tale, 

Another fool swallowed by the sun's blaze.

But the years gnawed at me, 

Maggots engulfing a corpse that never died.

A vulture feasting on a thing 

that was never even alive.

And when they ask  

why I let the wings wither, 

why I let my bones bleach,

I'll tell them-

Icarus was lucky, 

At least he got his moment of glory, 

At least he got to burn.

Author's Note

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