A Plea to Wingmakers and Wingbreakers Too

bugzapper

Icarus, you fool

Didn’t your father, the wingmaker

The Da Vinci of his day, tell you:

Not too high, not too low,

But in the middle go

 

And you, Daedalus, Perdrix wingbreaker

Dynamite, enlighten me,

What knowest thou of the golden mean?

Thy mighty path was not the right direction

Didn’t you know your son’s fatal attraction

To light

 

Daedalus, did you know

The new invention you heralded:

The bug zapper?

For no Daedaluses of brainchild ever tire

Icaruses, in rapturous atonement now retire

The prankster

 

Leave my father alone, you know-it-all

I am no partridge

My extra-ordinary flight was never fall

I seek the sun behind the sun

I am no moth to a flame

The hidden light is my delight

My compass is the Absolute

Not the sun, not even moonlight

I never drowned

I coalesced

 

Fathers of greatness and mothers too

This I beseech of you,

Give your sons and daughters

You illuminated lunatics

A break

 
Happy Heuristics

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