What if we saw
our faces, our bodies
as the canvases they are,
telling our story
in their etchings and changes,
like the walls of a great canyon
shaped by the caresses of the wind,
carved by the movements of the water?
What if we cherished this story
and its record, written in our skin
embedded in the caverns of our heart?
What if we knew it to be a sacred telling,
one of a kind,
part of a bigger Story?
What if we saw the beauty
in the lines and sags
and the eyes that shine glory?