Garlands flutter on the heads of promising youth
Mood rings aglow with ire
As they corner the outsider
“Within without the Sun you are not the chosen one.”
Mangled limbs and clawing fingers
Rip at the outsider’s clothing leaving him bare
They slid a knife gently on his face
“Sun god here is our offering to you give us clear blue skies.”
Clumps of his golden locks lay in their hands
The outsider begged for his life
Saying he knew of heaven and stars and ancient texts
The youths lifted him up to the sun
From where he came
And did he fly ?
Did he return from where he came
Or did he fall
Icarus did the Apollo hear your plea
-v.