Rhythm

His body breathes
In blooms 
Of steam
His muscles move
In cranks
Of will
The days
And sights
All blurred
And gone
In running haze
His heart
And mind
Of scarlet coal
With simple goal
Of numbing run
Of living chase
Of looking to
And never back 
To landscapes
Blurred
And days
Passed by
And what remains
The frantic peace
Of ins and outs
Of breath.