What a beautifully terrible thing
To have fallen in love
With the golden of the sun.
Like Icarus,
Who knew he shouldn't have
When he flew with wax wings
And tried to feel it's burning touch.
To try,
And touch the gods.
But his wings couldn't hold
Caught aflame,
And his body flung back laughing to the wind,
he becameThe boy who flew too close to the sun.
Let him fall
Into the arms of the sea.
It's colder there,
But it will set him free.And Apollo, sunken in his grief
Holds the boy in his arms,
And says to thee"What a terribly beautiful thing
To have gone,
But to finally be held by the sun."Written on 1/18/21
Finished at 6:33 p.m. ESTKalopsia™
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𝑲𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒂.
PoetryKalopsia [ka-lop-se-a] Greek (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are. Poetry. Mostly intertwined with Tales of Greek Mythology. "Will wonders never cease When my muse saunters the velvet night, And prays to the moon for...