You keep going until your limbs catch a fever
until your world becomes nothing but this one straining moment
rewarded by a globe of air that you gulp down like instant mercy,
giving you one more curl
one more step
one more crunch
one more push

one more past the number you thought was impossible as a child
back when everything made sense
before the failures and misfortune
and the million heartbreak deaths
that, compared, diminish this hour of agony
into nothing

and for one brief moment, your heart about to burst
it wills your blood to keep flowing, abandoning the past of regret
because time and gravity will never be as strong
as hope.

this is why you are made of steel.
this is why pain is an afterthought.