In the veins

Images of utopias
having castles written with one's name,
fuel the plasma of desire,
secretly inspiring to reach beyond where the arms ache,
walking when the legs burn
ignoring chants of quit
from the corpses who died, but still breathe,
languishing on the grim reaper's waiting list
waiting for him to call their number.

It is breath that never quits
runs in times when others crawl,
refuses to accept excuses
for chasing rainbows and dreams.

Finding peace not in quitting,
but never giving up,
deriving joy from the pure ecstasy of facing a test
no matter the risk or results.

Coming to the mattress of conscience
sleeping peacefully without guilt
from knowing the heart didn't faint
even if life never saw what flows
in the veins.