time has done
what youth could not
the creaks of age remind me
in sharp retort upon rising
every day of my decades
earthbound where
once I thought to fly
instead laborious
I clamber and climb
to stand upon a precipice
sorrow at the might-have-beens
mitigated by perspective
hard won and from
a height but half imagined
as impossible
I see the world as Icarus
before the fall
yet still standing
standing still
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