When Icarus Flew over the Hidden Side of the Moon

2014-08-23 16.53.25-2Seduced by the sun’s splendor, Icarus didn’t listen to his father and fell into the sea. Well, it was a bit more complicated than that. These are Icarus’ last thoughts.

Look at me, Dad, l reached farther than you ever believed.

Now, l feel the wings starting melting. They burn my skin, but it is all worthy.

I fly here above anyone ever flew. I see the moon floating below me. All that remains is the sun and the pure blue sky.

I look down and l see you there, flying low, flying safe. Are you proud of me, Dad?

I feel the wings melting and l am afraid.

Is it worth flying here? Who will ever know, who would even care, that an Icarus son of Daedalus once touch the sun and died for that?

Now that I know you can’t hear me, I can tell you how much I doubt myself. Sometimes l think that all men in the Agora laughed at me behind my back; that all of them saw me for the fraud that l am. Of course, this feeling hurts deep in my soul, but my biggest fear has always been that you ashamedly agreed with them.

This is why l fly here over the hidden side of the moon.

I speak out now that you can’t hear me, but have you ever listened to me anyway?

I think you always saw me as a ghost of your expectations. You never saw me for what I am. But only as a second chance for yourself to achieve all that you couldn’t accomplish in your own years; to scape this labyrinth that you built and made yourself prisoner.

I don’t blame you, Dad. lf anyone is to blame, it’s me who was too weak to impose myself. My weakness brought me here where my wings are fated to melt.

I look down and I see you, so small, so distant from me. My heart squeezes.

How ironic is it that I came to touch the sun, but l could never touch you?

l tell you now something I never told anyone. When l was a child, I prayed to the Gods for that I died before you. I couldn’t stand the idea that one day you wouldn’t be there for me. You looked then so large, so close.

Now that my wingless body freely falls, I realize that l have never really overcome this childish fear. That all my life was a farce waiting for this end, where I give up everything for that you could be proud of me.

I never wanted to fly here, Dad. I don’t deserve to fly here. I do fly here only for the right of being here.

Was it worthy?

MB



Categories: Fiction

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