I am falling through the sky,
the clouds on my back are cold and wet,
the wind rushes through my ears,
angry that i would dare fall against it,
and the ocean below is dark.
I did not trip and fall on my own hubris.
My wings did not burn scorching wax down my body.
I flew to heights unimaginable.
And I tore the damn wings from my own back.
When my body hits the water,
when all I have are my own my broken bones,
and my lungs, heavy with water,
it was not hubris which killed me.
it was the terror of never being greater than this.
That this will be the greatest feat I will ever accomplish.
Fleeing from an old man with a big maze.
The frigid open water in which I died brought more comfort than ‘freedom’--