Daedalus
He felt land beneath his feet,
discarded his wings
and collapsed, exhausted.
He'd flown all the way.
He fled the prison he'd built himself.
He lost his son, the love of his life.
It was for him he invented the wings.
Again he'd proven his genius.
Now he can go where he pleases,
but what for.
He can do as he yearns,
if only he had yearnings.
He starts to understand that he's free,
that there'll be no more escaping.