Caesar's story isn't mine, and neither is that of Icarus

[fuzzyllama1]

Caesar’s story is whispered in VENI VIDI VICI 
but once he was a boy, ( like me, like you), 
and he came from a womb, all the same. 
     Many years later, my story may cycle in the wind, in the waves; 
     none of it matters in these dawn time days. 


My world creates my reality creates my home. 
     I’d like to build a worldly house with a sky blue roof and oak bound foundations,
     connected altogether within your wild walls and berry flower ceilings 
     (at least, I hope, my world will have you all over.) - The first line in this stanza describes how the universe at large affects individuals, the second line describes how individuals want to give back to the universe that gave them everything. A touching way to describe The Meaning of Life. Putting the romanticism in the last two lines is a nice touch, I think.

But first, to grow: - You have to grow, learn, and experience before you can give yourself to the world.
     an ambitious mutating willow 
     until all that matters not is so far below 
     that even my roots don’t know 
     they’re there. - Separation of these two words into their own line is wonderful, gives two meanings: The roots don't know they are there, yet still "they're there." I think this part is beautifully structured.

Last night, I dreamt I was Icarus, who tumbled all the way down from his apotheosis, and drowned in the ocean blue. 
     With warm brown hair and snowflake wings, 
     With warm brown hair and paper wings, 
     I too will fly. I too will climb. - The narrator is still young, still learning. 

And, dear gravity, I’ll trust you to be there when I fall, with 
bandages and careful loving and blissful laughter for my soul. - Why is gravity patching you up? Seems to me that gravity is a harsh, unforgiving force. Are you trying to portray the narrator's naivete?

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First thread! :-)

I wrote this in April for Napowrimo, and have been editing it over and over since. I've looked it over and picked at words and tenses and punctuation so much that I almost can't look at it anymore. Any criticism of the title is also welcome. I have a terrible habit of just throwing a title at a poem afterwards. Thank you!