so many have fallen trying to escape into the other expanse--and so it was. hopes erased, dreams dashed, bones broken and crafted wings crumbled for what other than the simple achievement of sharing in what the eagle possessed. borne of a rejection of the notion that they were not to have what they were not meant to have, based upon the thousands-year-old covet that all of man shared (well almost all of them), or probably more simply that he didnt believe what fate narrated to his ears. "i shall not be prisoner" and the boy heard.
he was only able to see their situation in the black light of his depression; truth revealed like a mirage on a veil over their eyes. and he saw himself as prisoner and convinced his son that they were both to leave. by innovation, twine, feather and wax he produced the tools that would free them. "i shall not be prisoner" and the boy heard.
with the tools they both left, and the older realised his dream for freedom--a large dream no less, which however and unfortunately spiralled inward in all directions because his son had a bigger dream, for then the boy had ball and chain, now he had wings, but next he wanted to be with the angels. "stay away from the sun" and the boy heard. but he did not listen, for he had bigger eyes than mind for the expectations of his future glory.
and the certainty of his survival became then solely part of his father's memory:
the boy was given wings but he lusted for the halo, a mistake so grand even his own death could not remunerate the tills of fate, and the debt cascaded down to his father, to be written into a new chapter of the old man's book of what-ifs and should-have-beens.
what if i had not hoped, for my son would not have learnt to hope, for he would then not hoped for more than was due to him? would it have been better for us to remain prisoners in that tower with legendary dreams of the sky or be now free men who pursued it to the bottom of the Greek sea?
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