Icarus And I Are Opposites

Caution has commaded every decision I have made
since the moment I turned 10.
The world smiled down at me with the same teeth
that would gnaw on me later.
Chew me up,
spit me out,
and dare me to try again.

And as a result I became a fearful witness.
Everything is a risk.
Every good thing has a motive.
Keep your eyes forward.
Keep your feet planted.
Keep preparing for something worse.

And I think of Icarus
who was gnawed on and spit out in the same way I was.
He burned and he plummeted sure,
but for a moment
he had exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, maybe in some way
we are both representations of extremities.
Him with his hubris
And me with my fright,
the boy who flew to high
and the one who never moved,
both contained by the parameters
of a myth.

As a story told to children
to remind them of who not to be.

And maybe I am jealous of him.
Maybe his story was better.
He knew the consequences
and he committed to them anyway.
He did not have apprehension to abandon.
He had his place in the sky,

and his thrill,

and his rush,

and his wax,

and his feathers,

and all of that warmth.