They call me Icarus,
For I am a dreamer,
And I dream of the sun.

Like Icarus, I learned to fly,
Soaring towards her brilliance.
For a fleeting moment,
I even basked in her radiant light.

But like my namesake, I was burned.
Untempered by grace,
Unfit to claim the sun as my own,
She burned me as she moved along her path.
I fell—crashing, broken, bleeding.

The fall was agony,
A pain deeper than the body.
She left her mark upon me,
Scarring my very soul.

Yet, in the wreckage of my fall,
I found the strength to rise.
Warmth returned,
But it came not from the sun,
It came from the SON—
My Creator and Savior,
My Lord and my God.

I am not a great man,
Many days, not even a good one.
But I will strive to be His,
For He forgave the unforgivable in me.
He lifted me from the dirt,
And taught me to fly anew.

In His time, He led me to another sun—
One brilliant, but gentle in her warmth.
She refined me as fire does gold,
Burning away my impurities.

When the time is right,
She will place her light upon me.
From her brilliance, she will fashion a ring,
And place it upon my hand.
She will keep me warm,
And I will hold her aloft.

I will tell the stars of her radiance,
And they will dance across the sky.
Together we imitate them,
Dancing intertwined for eternity,
Our steps aligned in the path of His light.