In stillness stands the man of steel, holding in frozen hands the knowledge that steel is far too insensitive. He climbs this ladder, this rusted ladder... That one day he may find perfect air and feel beautiful. I am here until the last, my arms rusted to the rungs of this ladder. Until it breaks beneath the weight of metal. I fall against the ground... I shatter... Fragments of me scatter. This was my life. But in the unease of rebuilding the future, I view a tree. I wipe sad eyes and begin climbing. I think I can.