Flight of Icarus

They stood at the ledge, both Daedalus and Icarus, ready to escape Crete in magnificent flight. Two wings were specially furnished, fashioned remarkably in wax, waiting to bring the two mortals into the open sky.

Looking out towards the sea, they could see only the water and horizon. Freedom laid itself out before them, the open water and the endless sky. They would escape Crete at last.

"Are you ready, son?"

"Yes, father, I am."

"Remember, never go too near to the sea nor to the sun. For the sea will dampen your wings, making it too heavy for flight and the sun is too hot for your wax wings."

They jumped off, and their wings flapped in silent flight. Angry waves were crashing below, and the sun was shining greatly above. The two mortals took flight like angels, or some might even believe them to be gods.

As they were in mid-flight, Icarus began to fly higher and higher. Some said the heat got to Icarus, and that he became giddy. Others said he was dazzled and fascinated by the beauty of the sun. As he went higher in flight, the wax on his wings began to slow drip off, feathers were slowly becoming bare arms.

"Icarus! Stop! You are too near the sun!" Daedalus screamed but his caution landed only on deaf ears, for Icarus was not listening. He was in his own world of thoughts.

"What's the use of flying if I could only fly to a certain height?"

Icarus's fingers began to show.

"What's the use of wings if I was only supposed to return to land?"

The wings were disappearing, his hands were showing.

"I shall fly high, even if it meant that it would be my last flight."

There were no more wings, and he plummeted toward the sea.

"At least, I've been higher than where I was supposed to be."

At least, he flew.