Alive

I don't know why

but something in me loves

to dance just out of death's reach

to swerve between its fingers,

there, but impossible to grasp

letting an inch decide my next breath

it makes me feel

in control 

as I cut and dodge the line,

racing asymptotically to the edge

but never falling off.

Something about the way

a small branch wips my face

millimeters away from my unflinching eye

makes me feel 

powerful

as I expertly evade a trap

someone else may have fallen for

Because as shards of ice

all but cut my skin,

and I accelerate to a speed

that makes it impossible to stop

impossible to turn back

impossible to do anything other than breathe,

something in me takes over,

something that knows it can't fail and won't

something that sets me free,

and I can't help but think

this is what it is to be alive 

This is an edited version of an old poem that I thought really answered the prompt.