She had the gift of flight, and she reveled in it.
Her friends and family warned her of Icarus' fate, but she reminded them of the other part of the myth that they had overlooked–that if she accepted complacency and flew too low to the sea, Poseidon would surely make her his bitch. So she soared.
Closer and closer toward the sun she ascended as I applauded and cheered.
The clouds lifted her up in eulogy.