Perhaps there was a tremor in the sky
in that first expanse of golden light.
The boy who wrapped his hopes in a sigh
and embarked on that first fatal flight.

The ploughman along his path as it wound
ignoring the splash, not a moment to spare.
Onward he roamed, yet what a curious sound,
the distant wail of a father’s despair.

Did the seas swell to soften the deadly dive
of the wax-winged boy that dared to dream?
Who attempted to do more than exist while alive
and plunged into Hades with a waterlogged scream.


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