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.