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A will like red-hot iron and muscles like hardened steel. Her body is a temple but the doors are barred; its worshippers are undeserving. Her divine commandments thunder in my ears. Faster! The cold will not slow me. Stronger! The hunger doesn't reach me. Farther! I clench my teeth and fight through the pain--it cannot break me.
Sixty-five miles. By crumbling brickwork and across frozen lakes and rivers. Through sprawling forests, over arduous hills, I find my goal beneath the setting sun, where mighty glaciers are met by ancient sands.
Would she be proud? Or would she want me to push beyond? As I reflect during the long ride home, I ask myself "am I worthy yet?"
No.
But I will be.
I reach now for the beauteous stars. For her. To hold ever distant perfection in my hands.
Or fall to earth.
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