Agony of Falling

We are all, in our way, born with wings — fragile things bound together by threads of hope and fear. this passion, our desire tempts us to fly higher, always higher, until the very wax, holds us together melts in the heat of our longing. there is no escape from this. we crave the sun, even as we burn beneath its gaze. we tell ourselves that maybe, just maybe, we can survive the flames, that our love will be the one to transcend the limits of the sky. the fall is not the tragedy. the tragedy would have been never flying at all. Maybe flying too close to the sun means burning. but never leaving the ground —never daring at all — means never truly living...