flesh on bone
skin on blood
tangled webs of crisscross veins
woven by the nimble fingers of time

tears in smooth skin, sewn up
by cells that know not their own complexity,
and a spectrum of colours
thousands upon thousands to be perceived

this vessel you inhabit
drifting through years of ocean
and yet through the storm,
it cannot break.

a melody
composed of a thousand instruments
a world
formed by mountain and ocean

consciousness that binds your entire world together,

and you're telling me that we're not all beautiful?