Our Icarus

Daedalus and Naucrate mourn their son’s body. His soul flies to the stars.

Our Icarus, wax-winged, is terrified of the sun,
But he survived his fall, unknown to most.
When the beams melted his wings, there up high,
He was rescued, since the sea did not grasp his ghost.

Like blow from a whale, his spirit hit the wind
And the currents carried him upwards past a cloud
Encompassed in a star, eventually,
He made his sad ambitious parents proud.

Inside an ever-widening circle
Beside the partridge Perdix now he flies
Behind a wall of moons
Away from Earth, to Jupiter, and cries.

https://www.greeka.com/eastern-aegean/ikaria/myths/daedalus-icarus/

Written for a daily contest:

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The Writer's Cramp  (13+) Write the best poem or story in 24 hours or less and win 10K GPS. #333655 by Sophy

Today’s prompt was to use the bolded phrases, with Mythology as a genre.