icarus
i am always drawn to the flight and fall of icarus.
i envision beads of wax perfectly hardened into matte pearls, sealing together coarse, thin thread intricately and skillfully weaved into long white feathers smooth as silk. it would fit like a glove, brushing the arms and caressing the back. when the sun shone, the feathers glowed a wonderful white, and icarus’ hair a gentle gold. his dark eyes would fill with a special kind of light as light skies grew dark yet again.
i see icarus stand before the sea with love on his back and euphoria in his heart, and i wonder. is this what birds feel? when they stretch their wings before a current, letting the wind ruffle their feathers and the light refract into slivers of colour? the freedom of one who knows the world, the release of escape, knowing how they can never be caged? oh, how joyful, then, to be free to soar and flip and dive through the sky, with nothing but wind in your hair and air on your chest! how wonderful to have the world at your beck and call, to fly free and true! let the wind lead, swirling a path for your spirit to follow, and your soul to venture to the corners of the earth. let yourself be unbound by the gales and unchained by the light, as free as a bird whose wings beat steady and unwavering. let yourself fly free, and fly far.
i see myself standing before the sea and the sun sometimes, the world halved by the two. to be suspended in the stars, or floating in the deep? the question hangs heavy as my own wings billow in the wind.
alas, as the tale goes, icarus was too caught up in his freedom. he flew far, too far. he felt the bliss of melting, scorching wax burning trails down his back, red streams of joy sparkling and glittering in the orange-red sun. he felt the weight of his wings leave him, silver-white feathers fluttering and falling away from his self, arms as free and light as a bird’s. he felt the sting of the sea pelting his bare self, the wind slashing him with frigid cold, and laughed. oh, how he laughed, and laughed, and laughed, as his arms stretched out to the watery sun and his tears disappeared under the waves. and when the last of his air bubbled out of his lungs and the world turned black, a single scorched feather lay on the surface, tinkling in the wind.
others cried about daedalus’ loss, others mourned icarus’ fall, others lamented the hubris of man. but all i see is his dry euphoria at flying close, oh so tantalizingly close to freedom and glory, and fully knowing it can never be reached. the bitter sweetness that one will see through a doomed endeavour. the resignment of one’s fate to something that is impossible, but the twisted euphoria of getting so close to fulfilment. the sour smile on one’s lips as they soar to the heavens, knowing the featherless fall that awaits them.
wings flutter and rustle, cradling me in their softness. i sigh. how i wish i could stay in their embrace forever, how i wish the calls would cease. how i wish i could join the sky without falling, and the sea without floating. how i wish i could just let it all fall away as i soar free.
but i have to choose. i always have to choose.
i spread my wings and disappear.
