“I am Icarus, and I soared towards the sun, oblivious to the impending doom. As I understand now, it was always beyond my grasp. The gallant fire blinded my vision, leaving me sightless in the boundless azure. My waxen wings yielded to the scorching heat, and I plummeted like the lifeless pebble. Now, as I descend through the endless void, there is scarcely a moment to comprehend the gravity of my folly, to truly fathom what transpires in these final breaths granted to me. My sight has returned, yet what purpose does it serve when nought but emptiness embraces me? The shores of Sicily shall forever remain the distant dream. Never again shall I glimpse the beauty and feel the tenderness of it. Not in this life, nor in any other. The stars begin to fade, along with the heavens and their infinite expanse. The thunderous sea beckons below, leaving me naught but to surrender. Perhaps fate could have been different, or perchance my fall was written all along. Alas, forgive me, Sicily, and farewell. I have tasted happiness, even if not for long” – I imagine they were true thoughts of Icarus, those fleeting moments of realisation as his wings began to burn and he burst out painfully laughing. Today, I find myself embodying him. I am crushed beneath the weight of my hubris, clenched and destroyed by my precipitous fall. The descent has spanned three consecutive nights, each bleeding into the other with merciless continuity. I want to speak with you, though our dialogue may be fragmentary. Your presence, as always, offers solace to me in the silent understanding. Thank you for being here with me in my solitude. Today, as I believe, I marked my missed opportunity to reach the distant shores of Sicily, much like Icarus has failed the journey to his love and freedom. In these moments of my fall, whilst time stretches infinitely before the final breath, I wish to contemplate all that was and what might yet be. Be with me in my reverie, as I navigate through the labyrinth of my memories. Be my witness, as I begin to unfold the story of heights attempted and depths encountered, a poem of deep regret, a story of love that was always doomed to an end.
In the depths of his confinement, Icarus dwelt in perpetual thought of existence – the passage of time gradually transformed his initial acceptance into the loathing of his very circumstances. Though he experienced life and love, his soul desired for transcendence beyond the walls that were holding his reality. Such wanting externalized in the relentless struggle against the prison, which he perceived as the vexatious embodiment of his limitations. Being once a distant comfort to Icarus, it became the suffocating reminder of his bondage, transforming his chamber into nothing but a cell. His rebellion therefore became not merely physical but entirely existential.
