Icarus flew from his prison
On wings of bone and wax.
His father warned him not to fly too high
But he reached out for the sun.
The brightness burned
And he fell into the sea and drowned.
The elders crouch around the fire
Like ancient boulders
Gnarled hands like roots
Gripping tight to the placid earth.
“Heed the lesson, children!
If you fly towards the sun, you will fall.
Stay close to the ground, and you will be safe.”
But they are wrong.
That is not the lesson.
If your wings won’t carry you high enough
Build better wings.
Carry them on your back
Up the steep paths
To the edge of the cliff where the falcons soar over the spray.
Do not look down
At the rocks below.
Look up, at the sun
And spread your wings.
Fly, little dreamer.
The sky is yours.
Photo courtesy of Hashmil and used under a Creative Commons License.