Așchii de inspirație // Splinters of Inspiration

Icarus

Remember Icarus? They say he fell because he flew too close to the Sun. But this is only half of the truth.

You see, he knew the Sun. He knew it well. He was familiarized with it. Comfortable, even. During each day, he would bask in its heat. He would see it rise and set, and rise and set, for days, for weeks, for months, for years. He would hear people sing praises to it and, after some time, he joined them. He started loving the Sun, blindly adoring it, for all those around him did the same. Everyday, the Sun lightened the path to his puny reality, like it did for any other mortal. And he would simply rejoice, like any other mortal. He only needed some warmth and light in order to feel fulfilled. His mind never questioned anything that happened around him, not even why he, and everyone else, loved the Sun with such a fiery passion. His soul never starved for something other than... existing. To him, life meant light, and light meant the Sun. Why? Because everyone said so.

When Icarus got his wings, he had the opportunity to go for any star in the sky. Any single star. He could have roamed among spiraling galaxies. He could have watched supernovae, witnessing the birth and death of any celestial object he desired. He could have tried to reach, no, to break through the edges of the Universe, to rip them apart.

Yet he still chose the Sun. He had the chance to soar far beyond it, but he never took it. He wished for what he already knew, instead of desiring more. The thought of going past the Sun never crossed his mind, for he had limited himself. He could only see the Sun's golden, familiar, mundane light, while his eyes remained unfeeling to the  endless, alluring, uncharted darkness that lay before him. 

So, blinded by the Sun, Icarus lost himself in its embrace. We all know the end of the story. His wings fell apart. He fell with them. Perhaps for the better. He was never ready for them anyway.

They all say this happened because of his pride. Yet they're all wrong, for pride was never Icarus' biggest sin.

It was ignorance.

Ignorance, though blissful, burns our wings. It causes our downfall not only as individuals, but also as a species. Unless we stop it, we will all drown in the ashes of our ancestors and the never to be wept tears of our unborn successors.

Don't aim for the Sun. Aim for that distant star that barely twinkles in the night sky's ink. And when you feel like you can reach it, go beyond it.

The unknown beckons you. Don't let it wait for too long. Or your wings will turn to pale wax and dust, and you'll fall.