The Body

It's just a body, isn't it? Skin, moles, freckles. Tendons, veins, soft purring of fine hair. It is flawed and it is beautiful. It can be used and it can be adored. It can be victimized and it can be lavished upon.

But it is only a body, an external version of self.

When does it become more than that? When does it become muscle and blood and organs and soul?

When you are loved, is it more? Does that love and respect and trust transcend the appearance of body and expand like blown glass into what is beneath the surface, beneath the desire, beneath the need to be wanted, accepted, the need to be more than just hollow air.

Can the love of self do this? Can the love of your child do this? Can the love of a good man do this? Yes!

I will be more than flesh, fine hair, and rushing blood. I will be the blower of that glass, the breath that gives the body life, the expansion of air turned to soul, turned to ME.