The burnt wings of Icarus
There are a lot of thoughts in my head. Thoughts, not cohesive enough to form an idea, but voluminous enough for me to not co-exist with them. Moving in and out of the rays of focus, as Brownian motion of dust when the sunlight creeps through the corners of the blinds. Maybe it's summertime sadness, maybe it's the lack of a break from life. Our world has become stressful enough to get on anyone's nerves. Perhaps, it is the sign of the times. As middle age fast approaches and youth fades away, the burden of life itself gets heavier. I remember reading a poem in school, which compared a human's life journey to that of the river water, starting from the mountains, descending rapidly and with vigour down the hills, like a young bull, only to calm down in its middle life and submit itself to the sea eventually, akin to death. Alexander may have wept, for no more lands were left to conquer. There's a silent cry within every millennial, as there are no more downward sl
