My skin is bound in scripture by the process that authors me. My spine is sewn with sinews of lore. My holiness is an intricate entanglement sheathed for display. Scribes have given whole lifetimes to the calculation of my creation. I am the product of those sanctified by vows. Now, deprived of bindings, I am on display. I require your interpretation of my layers, each deep and actualized. Look into my knotwork to find the origin that I never had. I am a cycle forging itself anew. I am preservation.