Icarus flew too high into the sky. He saw the inferno stone hanging and wind carry his wing. Daedalus watched his son growing infatuated with flight, taking his new skill and testing the limits. He flew to the sun, wax melted, feathers sheepishly fell. Icarus collapses to the unsound marine, an intake of salted fatality.
Perhaps his child saw outside of the accustomed reach. Icarus attained an aspect of the atmosphere never before experienced and peered over the horizon. He saw the unknown. His eyes glazed at the nothing beyond the sun. He drowned himself as his father’s disheartened wallows rocked the inner chasm of the labyrinth.
His youthful exuberance led him to a place wiser souls would not travel, he saw existence, and it weighed on his shoulders. He drowned.