It has been an eon and it still stands.
I am still hanging
from the horns of the moon…
I look at the chasm that involves jumping.
Sometimes a crack has
the depth of a marine pit;
it feels as timeless, eternal.
I have fallen a thousand times infinite
to the shores of Styx, beside shades.
I've been buried under the tide of Charon.
Icarus on fire between Cratos and Bia.
I have been banished from my own wings…
My Wings of Icarus
grow again and again
regardless many times as outraged
torn from my shoulder blades
where my soul and my bones articulate.
I have fallen without nymphs
in the shadows of the Titans inflamed.
Still they have not broken me
still I am intact as the skies
full of vibrant stars…
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