Let your ribs be the iron cage
That winged hearts of men fear
Let your eyes hold such depth
All who gaze be lost there, always
Let your arms be lovely yet strong
May you contest with Atlas
As you both hold up the world
Let tears be not weakness
But rivers that cut their path
Through the stone mountains of your cheeks
Let lips hold words of faith and courage
May you speak truthfully
May you be harsh when called for
Let your voice shake the earth
You are nature herself
You bleed the Golden Ichor of Gods
And where it falls, flowers grow
Let your heart be the strong Oak
And your capillaries, roots
The sky will bend for you
The birds will sing for you
The world will love you
But love yourself, first.