Something i found, kinda tacky, kinda inspiring-
Am i dreaming? As i breath in, my lungs sound like a horse in trot, i can see the smoke before me, of heat meets siberian freezing cold. My blood cold lips stick together. Am i dreaming? I taste cold metal, or is it a rusty smell, where am i? My forehead burns from the realization that it isn't heat, it’s the coldness of space, the weight of the universe, i am pressing my head against with patient angst. The post world war ii 100 lb plate smells of iron, smells of testosterone, smells of silent exchange of men, many men, many warriors. It was this same metal taken new shape, that had forged swords, mesh armor, guns and tanks.... Missiles and cannon balls. The shape of this inorganic mineral is destined only by mind, by my mind, and my mind intends to do the impossible, again, timeless, ageless…i am a warrior, an iron warrior, preparing for the field of battle. Though i know not where and why the battle is, it is, it must be. My mind is calm and ready, ready to shape this iron into a weapon of peace, or receive it sharply, or bluntly, as i fall. So what is peace, i ask myself as i dream in a microsecond rest? I answer myself with post set breathless frozen air, turning to vapor before my eyes, then lingering, even this oxygen yearns to stay near by me. In a single sentence i say...deeply, loudly, peace is the ability to rest after a hard won victory, then whispering before the next brutal win. Again, what is peace? Peace is the preparation my mind takes to deduct, to create and then to perfectly execute, with mathematical precision defending the truth. What is the truth? The truth is that this god damn beautiful metal, that beats me every time, would never move without my will. What is my will? My will is to beat myself, as my mind makes me god, for a moment, for a microsecond, ageless, timeless and testosterone driven...i think before i feel. My workout is done, as i cover my body in warm diamond flickering glass moon dust, and fashion myself a pillow of the same, peering at the stars wondering which world i will concur next, though i am just a baby boy, dreaming of being a man.
