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To your parents and heirs you turn your back;
Unaware of the truth; a willing fool.
Of towers of glass, you will never lack;
A Wolf among wolves that buys kindred's soul.

Your ivory globe filled with polution;
Never thick enough to permit blindness.
You fear the built gap; backward ascension;
Ignorance is the name of your illness.

Icarus, flap your alabastre wing!
Visit and master the sky, forth and back!
Try! Of the sun you will never be king!
For it shall melt your wax and bring you back.

On the ground, awaits Gaia, the Mother.
Look: no proud face she bears... only anger.
©2008 ~Xildaen
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Submitted: April 25
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School assignement

This was supposed to be in Iambic Pentameter, but I couldn't manage to do so.
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