Do not warn me away from the sun, telling me not to fly so high. My wings are not made of wax like yours, and will not melt away like a dream. I was born to fly free from the ashes of my sorrow and pain, reborn with wings of fire and ice that swirl and dance me towards the stars. My wings were forged from every battle I fought, from every fear I embraced, and from every voice of condemnation I left behind.
Do not issue warnings that I might fall and regret soaring so far and so free. It is not possible to lament freedom or bemoan adventure. True, I might fall. Watch me set myself aflame and fearlessly rise from the ashes, ready to soar again. Do not tell me to stay complacent and safe when the wild winds call me to dance. My wings are ready for any storm and will joyously defy gravity.
These wings are resplendent with the colors of my courage and wisdom, woven together with glorious scars that track my journey. They are more resilient than you can imagine. In fact my wings are the sun you idolize and the storm that you fear.