I am not a casualty of bosom malignancy. I am encountering bosom tumor.
I am not passing on. I am living.
I am not curing. I am mending and restoring.
I am not dreading. I am cherishing and trusting.
I am not battling. I am stopping all threatening vibe and clash.
I am not powerless or reduced. I am solid and entire and complete.
I am not adapting or trusting. I am giving and getting, making and considering.
I am not crying. I am snickering until the tears rundown my leg.
My body is not my adversary. My body is my cherishing companion, my delicate aide.
My biography is not history. My biography is unbelievable.
I am not frail. I am effective unimaginable.
I am not a drop in the sea. I am the sea in a drop.
I am not scattered. I am adjusted.
I am not being decimated. I am building my holy stature.
I am not caught or confined. I am sans as a padded youngster.
My body is not a sloppy puddle of sadness. My body is a holy sanctuary of soul.
I am not loaded with shadows. I am loaded with lighting up light.
I am not an aloof manikin. I am a dynamic promoter and eager member.
I am not drained and bested. I am tied and contributed.
I am not without a voice or significance or reason. I am a saintly courier.
I am not disposed of. I am required.
I am not slipping, dragging or wavering. I am reliably motivating and inspiring.
I am not staying in the impressions of the past or the projections without bounds. I am blissfully moving stripped in the unfolding riddle of the present minute.
I am not the only one or surrendered. I am unendingly associated by the delicate, plush vibrational strings of adoration.
I won't overlook. I will recollect.
I won't wear out. I will shimmer until the end of time.