And fallen fallen light renew!
- William Blake

I still refuse to believe that
he ever fell: the gold
Which rand down his bronze
shoulders was gold,
Not wax. Why else
should it be told
And told again, how he
flew, and be told
So often that the story is
swallowed in his name,
Icarus and foolish
flight the same?

I believe
He held calm, unable and unwilling to retrieve
Each feather as it fluttered down.
Scorning to give dignity to the ground
As it reached up to him. He
was pulled; he never fell,
But earth and sun fought
and in one swell
Of power pulled him out of air but not of flight.
The instant before
earth is hit is
still flight.