You may think me foolish, or rash,
As youth are prone to disregard the advice of elders.
You say, my wings have not hardened, that I am not ready to alight.
You warn me to hold a steady course, to keep to the middle.
But, I value adventure over safety.
I long for the exhiliration of the whistling winds beneath me and the freedom of unrestrained motion.
For the chance to soar among the eagles,
I would spit in the face of danger because I realize that many never attain such an opportunity.
No, Daedalus, old man, I prefer not to choose the middle path.
I long for this chance to steal divine insight.
You see, this is much more than a flight from this wretched place, it is an emancipation.
Look, Daedalus, watch how high I can soar!
Higher, and higher, and higher, as far as my breath can sustain me.
I will reach the sun. I will go beyond the sun, into the heavens, and escape from the pull of the Earth, which is humanity's bane.
But, what? Oh, no. It's seems my wings have deteriorated.
Cursed Apollo. They're playing a cruel prank on me.
Because they can't stand mortal intruders or boys with wings.
So, I fall.
Down into the violent, freezing waters below.
I will die soon.
However, you never even knew what life was.
Life is not measured in years, but in split-seconds.
It was worth it.
Monday, December 01, 2008
This weekend, I came across an old tape backup of my old files. In the mass of outdated document formats, I came across some poems that I wrote back in high school, more than a decade ago. I'll start posting them here.
Posted by Mike at 4:47 AM