{"id":6813,"date":"2013-03-20T10:38:42","date_gmt":"2013-03-20T14:38:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/?p=6813"},"modified":"2021-11-16T17:24:31","modified_gmt":"2021-11-16T22:24:31","slug":"the-flight-of-daedalus","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/the-flight-of-daedalus\/","title":{"rendered":"The Flight of Daedalus"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"grid kcm\">\n<div class=\"grid__item nine-twelfths portable--auto lap--auto palm--auto top-no-padding bottom-no-padding center  \"><audio preload=\"none\" controls=\"controls\"><source src=\"https:\/\/linaru.com\/audio\/2013\/flight-of-daedalus.ogg\" type=\"audio\/ogg\"><\/source><source src=\"https:\/\/linaru.com\/audio\/2013\/flight-of-daedalus.mp3\" type=\"audio\/mp3\"><\/source><\/audio><\/div>\n<div class=\"grid__item one-whole portable--auto lap--auto palm--auto\">\n<pre>I \t\t\tremember ancient seagulls singing why you should not to go any higher. They were\r\nhope \t\tin a time of forgetful excitement. As your heightened mind overcame with this joy,  \r\nyour \t\tyouth did not bother to listen. In such state, we became nothing but noise. The \r\nessence\t\tof our memories faded in a hot blazed sky. You lost a feather, two at most, but \r\nflies \t\tsmell, with their hairs, your imminent death. Who will die alone? Whose dreams fly \r\nabove \t\tthe sun? Who will have to learn to let go? I did not know then, but soon I discovered  \r\nthe \t\t\twind would take you farther away from me. I became a lost emotion that found you in\r\nclouds.\t\tThe figures I see, remind me of you; this way, I am sure that you never really left. \r\n\r\nYou \t\tcan't leave me! We haven't flown far enough from the labyrinth, that is our minds, but you\r\nfell \t\t\tand did leave me here. Why didn't you listen to the seagulls' song? It hummed that  \r\nwithout\t\tyour feathers, you would fall. It hummed that beyond the sun, lies the cosmos within\r\nme \t \t\tand you.\r\n\r\nIn \t\t\tsolitude, one can understand the meaning of fulfillment but what is the difference between \r\nloneliness,\tas emptiness, and solitude, as spaciousness? The limit between one and the other is that \r\nI \t\t\tam free in solitude, but I am trapped in loneliness by the concepts that echo within. I\r\ndon't \t\tknow if I'm at fault, but I felt I did. I sank deep into a muffled pain that doesn't   \r\nunderstand \tthe meaning of death, a solitude that transcends our bodies, as a boundless light, so\r\nwhy \t\tdid you have to fall as you reached farther than any seagull has ever been able to go?\r\nI \t\t\twould have gone with you, but my mechanical ways reminded me that wax melts, but I still\r\nregret.                 \r\n\r\nIn \t\t\tloneliness, I didn't know that by feeling your emotions as my own, I would suffer. In\r\nsolitude,\tI met the phantom that never sleeps as it whispered,\" Let go of the memory that weeps.\" \r\nI \t\t\tknew that it meant I should forget your failed flight toward the sun because deeply within I\r\nknow \t\tthat there is no such thing as death, being fallen. If I had the option between leaving\r\nyou \t\twithout your wings but still escaping the labyrinth, would I deprive you of the joy you \r\nreached\t\twith your wings? I can't answer this question without doubting my own sanity as I become\r\neternal\t\tin a tale of double intent: A son's silence as a timeless becoming, and a father's lost\r\nbliss\t\tin a journey of loneliness and regret or in a lesson of a solitude and freedom. Perhaps,\r\nbecause\t\tit was too painful that I chose to learn, rather than to regret what's been done. And if \r\ndeath \t\tis the ultimate deed, then what can be done to undo it? Nothing, as we quite know. Death\r\nis\t\t\tthe real labyrinth, not the maze I escaped from. Whereas death is silent, life simply is   \r\nthe\t\t \tpursuit of meaning. And as we gently die, meaning dilutes itself into the vastness of the \r\ntimeless \tcosmic ocean that releases us, gives us freedom, from our memories. So before shouting from\r\nwithin \t\tthat you're free, wait! Your wings are fragile but if it rains, going into the sun could be    \r\nthe\t\t\tonly salvation. The wind could lift you above the skies; far enough to reach the cosmic\r\nocean \t\tbut not too close to the sun. If you fall above yourself, you become truly timeless, a leap   \r\nof \t\t\tjoy into an adventurous solitude, that is always awake, aware, attentive to the truth as  \r\nbeing. \r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n<div class=\"important\">This poem makes reference to two stories: The Myth of Daedalus and Icarus and the story of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Although Icarus is mostly seen with a negative light, through his father&rsquo;s love, I try to recreate an atmosphere that redeems his foolishness as an attempt to become a Jonathan Livingston Seagull. It is also important to note that in this poetic form I am confronting those two stories, that is two possibilities or two mindsets, rather than two (i.e. left side <em>versus <\/em>the whole text) poetic compositions.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I remember ancient seagulls singing why you should not to go any higher. They were hope in a time of forgetful excitement. As your heightened mind overcame with this joy, your youth did not bother to listen. In such state, &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/the-flight-of-daedalus\/\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6814,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"audio","meta":[],"categories":[1570,3,1760,1759],"tags":[1443,84,4,1852,7,338,1447,318,210,1856,829,1860,576,111,1857,1853,1858,1855,76,521,449,613,470,1859,402,951,1327,1845,1505,1854,266,113,269,280,90,1457,1394,228,895,62,56],"form":[1861,1863],"genre":[1553,162],"type_image":[1766,1567,1869,1756],"type_audio":[1572],"type_video":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6813"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6813"}],"version-history":[{"count":29,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6813\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9687,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6813\/revisions\/9687"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6814"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6813"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"form","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/form?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"type_image","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/type_image?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"type_audio","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/type_audio?post=6813"},{"taxonomy":"type_video","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/linaru.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/type_video?post=6813"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}