Analysis of Icharus

Warmed by the waxing of the tide of Icharus
I write in the cold of the shade of the day
Forms, in passing, flicker to evade my shadows
Light blooms and folds to invade the darkness
and beneath the Sun he careens forever down
Blinded, the Son unfurls his prophecy, and dies

In the swelter, painted wax melts its dyes
beneath the helter headlong dives of Icharus
Candlelight stories shudder and dribble down
Father Time’s lantern panes, night becomes day
Dawn fades to memory, again comes darkness
and I sit in the light, I sit in the shadows

The flicker that gleams from cracks in shadows
through wax reformed as lyric is sung and dies
echoing on tongues trembling back into darkness
Father Time’s lantern draws - ever closer – Icharus,
with his fabled wings – ever closer - to his dying day,
plummeting, into the flames of human hands, down

In the wake of Helios the fire in the clouds beats down
bright upon Him, burning into the earth his shadows
the glass panes of Time flung open upon that day
Mortals try in vain to paint the shadows with dyes
to come – ever closer – to the man in the sky; Icharus,
resplendent in defiance of the sun, slips into darkness

No sooner than Sol descends into Night’s darkness
is His carcass plundered and wax melted down
New suitors of the sun wear the wings of Icharus
scraping waxen feathers from the twisted shadows
Again the Chariot melts the freshly formed dyes
from the very cracked wax formed that first day

The scalding hands of human history juggle the day,
damning Father Time as again he thrusts into darkness
another cursed flight of Icharus with newly run dyes
beading, rolling, simmering, melting – ever closer – down
into waiting palms, those who lurk in blooms and shadows
biding Time to try on the well worn wings of Icharus

Running through my fingers the molten dyes of ancient Icharus
scald the darkness, blurring Sol and his shadows
Day becomes night, Father Time’s candle drips – ever closer – down