Icarus.

Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers for himself and his son. Before they took off from the island, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, nor too close to the sea. Overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he came too close to the sun, which melted the wax. Icarus kept flapping his wings but soon realized that he had no feathers left and that he was only flapping his bare arms. And so, Icarus fell into the sea in the area which bears his name, the Icarian Sea near Icaria, an island southwest of Samos.

A man, standing tall and proud, stretching his arms out to the heavens. He is lean, not a shred of fat on his body, his muscles thin but taunt with checked control. His legs are crossed, his genitals hidden beneath a thin fold of green linen. He is faceless, his face turned skyward and a mask of indifference hides any sort of facial features; all that can be seen is a firm and solid jaw, a perfectly sculpted head.

Strapped to both of his arms lie beautiful red and gold wings. The feathers of wax are intricate and thin, with hundreds of hours etched into each wing, each feather a masterpiece in its own. The man is in mid flight, his arms pushed to the ends of his own limits as the wind soars and whistles through them, the wings catching the breeze and propelling him towards freedom and the bright light of the sun.

On his chest, a tiny tattoo of his own. A little sun with sunglasses, smiling.

Naked and raw ambition, yet a reminder not to go too far. Always fly high, yet be careful and realistic with your dreams.

But where to get this vision on my body? I'm considering getting it drawn up somewhere.