You are not the size of your brassiere
nor the measure that the mirror imposes,
nor the echo of murmurs that disdain
advise the mould that the soul should be moulded.
You are not the width of your waist,
nor the way others see you,
for your essence, rich and pure,
is a universe that shines too.
You are not the colour of your hair
nor the tone that adheres to your skin,
you are a canvas, a beautiful dream,
a soul that in freedom expands and lives.
You are not defined by quantity,
nor by the brightness that others see in you,
your value goes beyond humility,
it is the love that your being reveals.
You are laughter and mystery, a song,
the strength of a river that never ceases,
a heart that in love endures,
a story that lulls, begins and prays.
For, in the end, what matters is your being,
the strength that blossoms within you,
and the world sings to you, for being and loving,
the only voice that love weaves in you.