If only my body were a mountain,
or a thousand grains of sand,
I’d hold it more gently,
like a feather in my hand.

I’d speak a lot kinder,
for its wisdom it bestows,
and marvel at its wonders,
for all the life that grows.

If only my body were a tree,
I’d show off all my leaves,
I’d wiggle all my branches
and ward off all the thieves.

I’d grow my roots deep
and kiss the moon good night,
And greet the morning sun,
with immeasurable delight.

My body is the mountain
and a thousand grains of sand.
It’s the snow upon the peak
and water that meets the land.

So I’ll hold it more gently,
and I’ll marvel as it grows.
For there’s no wisdom like the body,
for the body always knows.

My body is a tree
and I’ll show off all its leaves,
The ones that come in autumn
and the ones that winter grieves.

My roots have grown some 20 years
and will grow some 20 more.
My body is a bird
and through the sky it soars.