Daedalus the Artesan

for mystic

Daedalus, the artisan, sought certain passage - escape from Crete this day, back to Athena's womb. Not by dreams, but through the halls of heaven on jets of soft-moved air. King Minos was leader o'er the land, and carved the undulating waves. Yet, though he guards the land and sea, even Minos' hardened hand held not the air. So Daedalus, the artisan, fashioned gull's wings bright with sand from the Cretan shore. His thumbs, they mold the wings in wax. Unequal needs, or rustic shepherd's pipes are, by his undertaking, changed to plumes. Thus, Daedalus' greed consumed his soul, and that of his son Icarus. "Icarus, chosen child, go before me through the sky. Fly you away before me, coursing Apollo's chariot." Icarus, whose spirit bound by a gift of wings knew no laws. He flew not as the birds, but as might a man - high to the rapidly scorching sun. The radiating smile touched the wings of Icarus, warping the gluey ceramic wings. Daedalus, far below, at last knew the fate of his son, precious remnant. He watched the birdman plummet down ever faster back into Minos' undulating waves. Betrayed by dreams, by greed, by love of the land lost. Susie, 1976.

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