Icara

Beauty

Into the deep sky’s blue, so contrary to all organic joys, so far from pleasures of superiority. But higher, and higher, dazzled, perhaps, by the dizzy incandescence of waxen wings.
– Yukio Mishima, Sun and Steel

She wanted to experience true beauty
under the sun and snow,
beneath the awning of winter.
She craved the warmth of
another’s knuckles grazing hers.

Only curiosity could hold her –
she was far too exotic
for anything of this ordinary world,
like Saigon cinnamon and cardamom,
she was gentle and airy,
longing for a nomad to live with her
among the pinnacles and pines,
to rid her of the loneliness
that filled her hazel eyes.

She felt the soul of the Earth
pulse beneath her bare feet,
her toes tickling the dirt with wonder.
She ached for the heavens above,
a drunken sky filled with a
medley of colors –
nirvana’s confetti.

It had to be said;
she believed true beauty was
above her and below her –
she wanted to feel it within her.

A fellow journeyer that could build her
wings that would let her
be one with the Earth,
be one with the heavens.

She longed to be Icarus,
taken by the sun,
cracked frost melted,
lifted through a canopy of trees.

She was gentle, airy –
beautiful
as the heavens and Earth,
a gypsy’s heart,
a lonely soul.

With misty eyes,
she went up in flames,
burning – blending with the drunken sky,
her tears rained down
as she finally realized:

She never needed another’s touch,
for with her own two hands,
she could build wings,
and set herself free.

– Samantha Prasad

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