Fitness Fanatic
He measures mornings in miles,
each breath a promise to begin again.
The mirror doesn’t judge,
it waits—
silent witness to the burn
that makes him feel alive.
He counts not calories but control,
a kind of devotion the body demands,
each rep a small confession
to the god of effort.
Others pray for ease;
he prays for the ache to stay—
a steady reminder
that the heart, too,
is a muscle made holy by use.
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