ICARIAN

Cut from the same feathers, dear brother. I will need another pair of wings. Heights have never scared me, you know this. It is the oceans that frighten me, as I am yet to master my strokes. It’s melted the beeswax, and I am falling straight into the depths of my fear. As I fall, brother, I fear. Must I master the strokes from survival? What if I drown? Oh brother, must I meet a similar fate as you? The sun being my hopes, has betrayed me yet again. Taken from me the warmth I sought. I do not fear the dark, I have been there many times. I fly even higher during the night. This was unexpected. It got cold and I sought warmth. Am I to blame for natural desires that are basic? However so, this is not the time for questions. I am falling again, and just as my brother, there is no one to catch me.

— Tolú