This poem was originally published on 28 July 2016.

I met a man named Icarus,
A washed-up odd soul.
He never raised his eyes to the sky,
For something had burnt him whole.

I met a man named Icarus,
Who happened to teach me much.
He spoke at length of flying and falling,
Yet he’d never move as such.

I met a man named Icarus,
Who pushed me off a cliff.
He told me I could take the winds,
And he always chewed on his spliff.

And that is how I found myself,
Soaring after a jay.
I was much too close to the sun,
Before my wings frayed.

I plummeted in a twirl,
Into the foaming mouth of the sea.
But I knew how to fall,
So I was not worried.

Icarus taught me much;
Yes, I knew how to fall.
But he never taught me,
How to get up again.
They found me in a sprawl.