Icarus
poem
End over end he fell
Through anything, always and forever
Lost
In the adamantine brilliance
Harboured by his skull
Most ardently
Inclined southwards, ever running
In search of other, brighter suns
With which to burn his hands
As the world tumbled closer, no thought
Standing jagged out before the night:
No, always and again the light
Pierced him through
While his wings they fell too
Severed, Luciferian;
Many an antiquarian
Would believe himself
Inured;
Ah, sir,
The tale is painted on the sky:
Belie
Yourself, if you never thought you could refuse
The sun's rising, and your high thoughts lose.