The Olympic Flame, to the ancient Olympians, symbolized the theft of fire from Zeus by the Titan Prometheus, who in turn gave it to man.  This creation of the gods gave us light, warmth, protection, and power.  But it also gave us a symbol of our dreams, ambition, dedication, persistance, and courage.  We speak of the fire in our heart that drives us to accomplish the difficult, the exhausting, and from time to time, the impossible.  Maybe this flame in our hearts really is the fire that came from the gods.

Icarus of Greek Mythology was able to fly, due to man-made wings made of feathers and wax.  He loved flying.  He flew fast, he flew far, and he flew high.  Too high. 

He was warned when he got his wings to not fly too high, as the fire of the sun could melt the wax which held his wings together.

But Icarus loved flying high more than anything he had ever done, so he flew higher and higher, gaining greater joy with each foot of his climb.  And he approached the sun.  And his wings got hot.  And the wax melted.  Icarus died as his wings fell apart.

He died young, but he flew, and though he didn’t reach the sun, HE GOT TO FLY.  He had courage, he had dreams, he had strength, he had joy, and he had fire in his heart.  I think it wasn’t the sun, but rather his internal fire that melted his wings, as it was this fire that pushed him to see just how high he could fly.

The young Georgian flew to the Olympic Flame, and he flew fast, driven by the flame in his heart.  He died young, perhaps he flew too fast.  But while he lived, he knew the warmth of the Olympic Flame, the fire of the gods.  He’s no longer among us.  He reached the sun.