I scorched my waxen wings
During all afternoon of flight;
The winds had failed me,
The sandy, foamy shores of
Crete had vanished from sight,
Yet I beat my wings onwards.
Above the crags of Icaria
I stop.  Father Daedalus
Panting, in perfect wing,
Yelled from behind: “Eh, son!
Can’t you be content with
The realms of the Earth?”
But I, pushing on, with
Melting feathers, getting closer
To the blinding Father Sun,
I, frenzied and glory-smitten,
Did not reply.

By Constantine Santas

Statue by sculptor Enzo Torcoletti, St. Augustine, Florida. It re-visits the Mythos of the “Fall of Icarus.”