The Fall From The Sun

It was I who flew too close to the sun.

I did not smell the burning.

I was too busy yearning

for things that would never come,

mistaking distance for destiny,

and hope for something I could touch.

As my wings dripped mercilessly,

I maintained my careless path,

watching every feather fall behind me

and calling it a sacrifice

for the life I swore was waiting ahead.

I should have turned.

I should have listened

when the sky began to warn me.

But wanting you was louder

than every warning I had.

Only as I began to fall

did I recall the truth,

the sun was never mine to hold,

and some things burn brightest

only because they were never meant

to be held.

So down I came,

featherless and foolish,

clutching the ashes of a future

that had never belonged to me.

And somewhere between heaven and earth,

I finally understood:

I was not destroyed

because I loved too deeply.

I was destroyed

because I kept mistaking

the warmth of your light

for a place I could call home.