Beneath the sky, where whispers stray,
A canvas of flesh meets the earths embrace.
Is the curve of a hip less sacred than a trees bend?
Is the arch of a back not shaped by the same winds?

Naked, we are not undone but complete,
The lines of our bodies, echoes of rivers,
The warmth of our skin, borrowed from the sun.
Do we conceal out of shame or fear
Of the power bare truth might reveal?

Here, stripped of pretense, I am whole.
A reflection of natures daring design
Unashamed, unbroken, untamed

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