sticky wax collected from the ears of ten thousand bees

feathers of every bird save the ostrich

balsa canvas sinew atop the cretian cliffs

with the wings strapped to our backs

from point spinalonga we set out across the sea,

to catch the wind

the culmination of fear as we left the rock

Minos’s men not far behind drove our last steps

the sea beckoned but the wind would not let go

we left the rushing waves below

elation victory success then washed over me

not even fathers words could catch me!

as he called his son, the sun called me

    ever onward,

        ever upward