Powerless under the sun

The old man sat along the shore all day,

Hidden out of sight from everybody.

Tormented by his thoughts he never spoke,

Only muttered to himself quietly.

His delicately frail Athenian skin bronzed,

At the touch of the sun god Helios.

And the wrinkles on his face formed a maze,

One that his mind had never escaped.

In his hardened, trembling hands he caressed

The pointed grey feather of an eagle.

With it he remained seated placidly.

Whenever he heard the flapping of wings,

His blood flecked eyes would finally open.

Disappointed, he would close them and wait.

He always thought that his son would return.

The poor elderly man slowly withered.

After decades of agonising thoughts

Death finally came for the old man

And freed Daedalus from the endless maze.