My Saviour, My Light; Myself.

Icarus is swallowed by the murk of a blue-black ocean,

The sun forgotten.

Light is so far from him, now

That he has forgotten the feeling of its rays.

Oblivion has taken what made him dare to fly that high in the first place.

He only struggles to stay afloat.

He is dragged under again and again,

Sometimes so far down he's sure he will not make it this time.

And he doesn't...

And then he does and he does again.

On the surface, he calls out to a saviour.

To his father.

To the sun.

To god, man or devil.

He would give his life to feel alive again

But all he does is drown.

Endlessly.

For too many years.

He thinks it a punishment, at first.

He thinks he deserves it.

After all, who was he to disobey?

Who was he to want more and reach for a celestial entity, blinded by his curiosity, instead?

But soon, he will learn that the world and the gods and fate are not necessarily vindictive,

Nor are they kind.

It is only a matter of individual perspective.

And that, really, is all it takes.

A shift in perspective.

Icarus goes from fighting and clawing his way through the dark blindly to remaining still..

He becomes one with the waters and learns how freeing it can be to let go for a while.

How little things matter except the things that simply mattered to him.

The water was a mirror to his soul..

Dark, violent, terrifying, beautiful.

All at once.

His body is pulled and prodded but the exhaustion has seeped in so suddenly

That he can't fight with himself any longer

And one day, he is finally left to the surface by the bored, disappointed whirlpool beneath.

Slowly, painstakingly, the young one sows in himself the idea that perhaps the light and saviour was him all along,

Daring to swim ashore and begin anew once more.