The scars of Icarus haunt mankind. The memories of the flight, the fall Echo through our collective mind To hold us, keep us from standing tall. No use for us to reach for stars, Scattered 'cross the ebon night, When all our fingers snatch are scars, From coming too near out life-dream's light. Yet men without dreams are simply clay. 'Tis not in our natures to never try. E'en after the fall, we greet the day, With arms and wings outstretched to fly. To rise again, and overcome strife Is more than attaining dreams - 'Tis life.