Icarus

So many came before him-
Some whose sights were higher,
Some whose wings were larger-
Oedipus, maybe;
Or Achilles-
And yet they all ended the same:
Soaring high-
Each on his own wings, his own power,
The wax begins to melt-
The feathers flutter
Down, down to the sea below-
And then they fall;
Tumbling, arms over feet-
Arms made strong by accomplishments,
Feet made hard by rough roads-
Down into the waves below...

And when they splash-
A sound no one can hear,
The world will ask-
"How came it to be that these gods,
By their own wings-
Were brought to their knees?"