Icarus, I need to know.

Icarus, I need to know.

I need to know why you flew,
what you saw above that was worth more
than the majestic chariots of your life,
was it them? did they call you?
Tell me, was it exhilarating, terrifying, or heavenly?
Did you push away the stars and
gobble down the air
and did you grab the sun and swallow it whole?
Did it provide the heat you longed for,
did it soothe your muscles and open bundles of nerves,
did it ignite you from the inside?
Did it flame up everything that had died?

Icarus tell me did you feel the wax melt,
sear down fragile skin and burn everything in its way?
The falling feathers, did you realise?
Was it like a weight being lifted, a chance at freedom,
liberation? Peace, did you feel it?

Icarus I need to know if the seas howled
and the waves cried and crashed
and threw a tantrum, and I need to know
if you heard him scream. I need to see
if you felt remorse, regret, or dismay,
if you reached out to him.

Icarus, I need to know if the
feeling of falling upwards was enjoyable,
like drinking up all the adrenaline in the world,
like feeling indestructible.
I need to hear if you laughed
wildly with maddening hunger
with an incessant rush of dopamine to your brain.

Icarus, I need to know how it ends.