Fleeing the life of bond, yearning for life other –
On wings of wax, constructed by his father;
Against his father’s wise advice,
Too close to the sun he dared to rise.

With molten wings from heights of ecstasy,
Like stone, he plummeted from sky into the sea.
Such drowning fate – we knew he reached;
But did the Fortune really have him ditched?

                           *  *  *

The sun burnt bright, yet sea was cold,
Wax froze, hardened, and then fit the mold.
With wings renewed, both strong and light,
Out of the sea, into azure transparent height,
Emerged Ikarus; emerged to dare another flight.

Should not he dare the old advice,
And burn his wings, not once, but twice?
What if the wings don’t melt this time,
Will he be freed from life of grime?
To conquer skies – dream of all time.

In crafty flight, all through the night, 
The moon would shine, his path’d be bright.
The sun won’t burn his wings outright;
He’ll reach heights, higher than the kings,
And through night skies he’ll circle proud rings.

He soared to stars, beyond the old advice,  
And touched the skies, not only once or twice:
Beyond the dreams he ever risked before,
His wings renewed, with strength to take him fore.

When wings melt, short of reaching goals set bold,
Remember fate of Phoenix – a story, ages old.

             Paul Pinkhasik, August 17, 2024