Daedalus

There we were, making these marvellously intricate things from copper wire and old porcelain fragments, lapis lazuli and iron washers, wood chips and the smell of roses. We were very young then, and the idea of having children had not come upon us. It was more like the making of children than the having of them, and it would one day return to haunt us. For we were a young nation, and a foolish one; we balanced our pocketbook, while casting away some things that made having a pocketbook worthwhile.

We made wings for our sons. And when they flew away, some to sun-scorched ends and some to distant lands of foreign idols and awkward gods, we raged rather than mourned. And here we are. Here we are. Old and grey, and too afraid to someday be Odysseus; rather we would be Midas, and sit in judgement out of folly. Oh, what a twisted myth we are, and oh, how happy we are to be like this!

What a sad adventure.