Freedom.
I pave my road to escape
With artificial flight.
The birds can fly,
So why not me?
Ruffle my feathers in the breeze,
It feels good to soar.
It feels


free,


open,



new.
So long, labyrinth’s confines.
I’m off to explore again,
In a world that is just as much a maze.
Icy water, far below,
My reflection brings a smile
To this boy, flying in the sky
Where the birds only know
How to play with wind.
Trespasser, they say to me,
Come down before it’s too late.
Come down?
Not when I’ve just broken free.
Not when the air is so fresh
And away from


dark


damp



endless tunnels.
Suddenly, a shout from the window,
A glance at the sun.
Too late, the birds crow,
Too late for Icarus and his pretend wings.
Only wax holds them together,
And the true fliers sing of


melting wax,


and falling,



and my short-lived freedom.
I fall through the boundless sky
That was once my kingdom,
Now the air of what I’ve lost.
The wings are gone, but gravity drags me
To the water, to the pages of old failed adventures


and timeless stories,


myths,



my legend,



my legacy of artificial wings.