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Today, I share a reminder that I write in hopes of you remembering the real possibilities that lie within your dreams. It's been a long time since I've written poetry, yet it welcomes me back with open arms and too many thoughts.
Like Icarus, you may also find yourself in the middle,stuck in your thoughts, in the weights of what could be versus the dreaded actuality.You long for the sun, hot upon your back with wings spread as yousoar upon a wave of glory, nothing to pull you down.Apply wings to wax in plan and hope and want,don them as any other would wear their clothing.But the sun burns and wax melts. Feathers may float,
but you, like Icarus, do not.
The waves will swallow you, drown you in their depths of doubt,
of what-ifs and cannots.
The sun, once a welcome warmth, burns you beyond repair and
water fills your lungs.
And you long for the middle, for the grounds that offer no threat.
You find solace in clouds above your head and sand beneath you feet.
They offer no threat, no wet gasps for air or hot wax dripping down spine.
But where is the glory in the middle?
Where does one find the warmth of success or the wet cries of despair but
in high or low. Middle offers no rewards.
So you must fly.
Don your hope and dreams like the wings of Icarus.
Beware the waters that lap at your heels and the sun which
threatens the wax to bubbles.
Fly as Icarus did,
but do not seek his company for he will lead you astray.
catch you later,
Karleigh
"“I’ve never been certain whether the moral of the Icarus story should only be, as is generally accepted, ‘don’t try to fly too high,’ or whether it might also be thought of as ‘forget the wax and feathers, and do a better job on the wings.” // Stanley Kubrick
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