the miracle of the well

I feel my fingers reddening and wearing down. Every part of my body weighs five tons more, my limbs go numb, my muscles tense to their limit. I drag my fingertips across the icy stone, forcing my movements. I long for the exit, I long to reach the light. My fingertips are raw, begging for rest, and my mind commands me to continue. I feel the lack of air as I find myself trapped in a large, damp, and icy tube. For every millimeter I climb, I feel like I'm descending three meters. The bottom of the shaft is getting deeper and deeper, and the exit seems farther away. My body threatens to give way, to let go and surrender. It holds on, exhausted, with the bare minimum of strength remaining, hoping to be rescued; by a miracle.