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Chibi4Christ	I set my sights on higher wings and leave behind those made of gold to trade my thoughts for better things as did the warriors of old. The wind abhorrs the silver trace and despises those of molten vein, but threads of gossamer and lace it carries higher yet again. Shall Daedalus form my winged frame? Shall Crete contain me ere I fly? Are the Greek and I just the same Or shall I never gain his fame? The wings of gold and wings of silver whose carved feathers brought me hither are no longer as precious now, but only valuable, I trow
Artemis Gem	Or are the books of history fading away? Will that blood that made me free to fly Run free again, or shall I die Imprisioned?
Chibi4Christ	The wind, the rain, all tell again the lines for which men died. And on the night I lost my flight I lost my heart, and cried. The diamonds of state mean nothing to me, the jewels of the crown will ne'er set me free. Oh, for wings of light! Would I regain my flight?