Icarus Inbound


Captive of probability.

Stacking the odds against you.

Each turn of the card

binds your fate,

ever certain.

Each sunrise

carves your name


into your tombstone,

until no act of God,

or nature

can remove it.


Ride high

on your shining chariot.

Emblazon the sky

with your egregious sins

and know

that every roll of the dice

brings you closer to the Earth.

Icarus inbound,

with no clearance to land.

Even if you touch down softly,

the Earth will be waiting

to receive you.


Maybe it’s better

to come in hot

and cut a deep groove

in the dry ground.

No tombstone,

no mausoleum;

just a place

where you scarred the planet

and altered the landscape

with your velocity.


It’s gonna come,

that last hand to play.

only God

and the dealer know

when the Death’s Head

will turn up.

Failed grace.

Ace of spades.

Pray for another day.

Doesn’t sound like you,

but it is;

it’s everyone.


We’re all gonna sit

and stack chips,

and eventually,

we’re all gonna fly

and try to touch the Sun.

We all know our fate;

it’s sealed,

our choices,


but at the same time,

somehow infinite.

And if I know you,

you’re already figuring out

another way to cheat.



HG – 2022

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