In a tango with the sky,
Along the symphony of the wind,
Higher and higher Icarus flew.
In shade of a cloud
Above, swayed by the wind,
Mocking it's impotence, his pride grew.
Defiant Icarus refused to comply.
'Tear through.' The voice of pride maligned.
For a time, he did enjoy the view.
With sun's heat he was enshroud,
Layer by later he's wings thinned.
And with life he paid what was due.