Icarus

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It happened quickly, as if some magic elixir had given him wings. Past the outline of skyscapers and the encompassing darkness of distant mountains, he could feel himself rising. No control was to be had here; a lightness of being had hijacked his body. The man didn’t mind at all. This feeling was euphoric and surreal and tender as the clouds themselves. He reveled in it. 

The worries of the world fell away. Still constricted by the laws of gravity, such sludge could not rise upward. All thoughts which bullied (the ugly black and blue thoughts) slouched defeated on the sidewalk were they’d been abandoned. Sky was the limit now. 

Wind moaned deliciously against eardrums. It caressed this new found dreamer tenderly like a mother consoling a distraught babe. Contentment would soon lead to sleep and sleep would soon lead to rest and rest would soon lead to waking. This modern suited Icarus braced himself for impact as he succumbed to himself. There was only so much a body could take, even when weightless. 

Without warning he groggily awoke, turning off his alarm clock. The squawking noise of it’s morning “hello” sliced through the silence of the night. No matter. The tired ache was gone. Flight was exactly what he needed. Smiling, he decided he’d share with her this adventure. Today was the day he would stop running. She made his heart soar. He loved her. With that realization, our blissful dreamer flew out his door. His feet never once touched the ground. 

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