1d
To build a man from stone and spark—
Not every hand can leave that mark.
He took his time, a slow-moved flame,
Not born for speed, but carved for fame.
The egg unhatched till stars aligned,
A soul too sharp for humankind.
He walked with weight, not just with pace,
Each step flattened their shallow grace.
No need for words, his silence kills,
A gaze that bends the strongest wills.
You stare too long, the truth runs red—
He lives, while others lie there dead.
Not every hand can leave that mark.
He took his time, a slow-moved flame,
Not born for speed, but carved for fame.
The egg unhatched till stars aligned,
A soul too sharp for humankind.
He walked with weight, not just with pace,
Each step flattened their shallow grace.
No need for words, his silence kills,
A gaze that bends the strongest wills.
You stare too long, the truth runs red—
He lives, while others lie there dead.
This poem is a meditation on the deliberate, almost divine construction of a singular man—one carved not by haste but by vision. Man-Craft explores the forging of identity through patience, silence, and inner force, contrasting the noise of the world with the weight of authentic presence.
