Cycle

I have
a tempo going.

I look down,
watch as my legs
pump up,
pump down,
rhythmically,
perfectly,
purposefully.

My feet
clamped snugly,
into the pedals,
they churn,
they turn.
Pulling up.
Pushing down.

the movement
follows
an unheard
symphony.

I dance along the road.

There was pain
miles ago,
yet it echos
deep behind me now.

It is there,
yet it is not.

I gaze at my arms,
deep dark brown,
glazed in sweat,
they betray
the time spent
positioned upon,
the bars
in front of me.

I look ahead,
miles ahead,
a road
that does not end.

A fear wants
to invade my head,
yet my head,
stays focused,
on the rhythm,
the rhapsody,
the symphony
I create.

I become
hypnotized,
by the hours
my legs have turned,
my legs have burned,
God help me so...
these moments
I yearn.