32

312 16 19
                                    

Everyone knows the story of Icarus. The son of Daedalus. He was a legacy of Athena and just a young boy when he fell from the skies.

We have learnt that as Icarus fell into the ocean and as the wax on his wings burned, he screamed. He yelled in pain, in agony.

But he didn't.

He laughed as he fell. Icarus threw his head back and laughed. He yelled into the winds, his arms spread wide and teeth bared to the world.

The wax scorched his skin, but Icarus didn't care. There was a bitter triumph in falling when he should've been soaring.

Icarus could hear his father call for him from above, higher in the skies but Icarus simply yelled into the wind again. He plummeted down further. The wax ran blazing trails down his back, his thighs, his ankles and feet. Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers, so close to snatch back but too far away. Death breathed burning kisses against his shoulders, where the wings joined the harness and the sun painted everything in shades of gold.

Icarus laughed again. There was a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the center of the flames.

***

Certain words and descriptions used are not mine, I adapted this from the below poem I found.

Icarus laughed as he fell.

Threw his head back and
yelled into the winds,
arms spread wide,
teeth bared to the world.

(There is a bitter triumph
in crashing when you should be
soaring.)

The wax scorched his skin,
ran blazing trails down his back,
his thighs, his ankles, his feet.
Feathers floated like prayers
past his fingers,
close enough to snatch back.
Death breathed burning kisses
against his shoulders,
where the wings joined the harness.
The sun painted everything
in shades of gold.

(There is a certain beauty
in setting the world on fire
and watching from the centre
of the flames.)

ELYSIAN, the riordanverseWhere stories live. Discover now