icarus, enticed by glory, climbed with burnished wings
to snatch the orb of helios and cradle it between his palms
and plummeted beneath the tides of tumultuous centuries
now entombed in myth, he still reaches, crooning fame's siren song,
toward that blazing star, and wonders whether daedalus's feathers were licked by fire—
how the sun's kisses had burned his weathered lips—
or stilled by ice