Icarus dared like those of us whom have tried to look over the mountain.

Waving sea green, touching rock and wanting more than vision.

Prosperity is a subtle thing, knowing an open hand more than once.

Remind me of the dirt I kick in anger and awe.

What line shall shatter me its this perception?

How shall this color wave my frame?

Today only solitude swings my thoughts and all shall remain in this tide along with the moon.

Whom watches, to shadow my flight.