From one nestled in the womb, 

Shut off from world,

Yet protected from its conformities,

Reality had yet to be conceived.

At hast,

The womb exceeds its volume.

A cunning figure

Who unbears a name is given freedom.

Neglected by its asylum,

The scar of unrest widens,

But is healed by forgiveness.

Its form in time takes heed

Of the stem of life that aims for the sky

But its unwritten story is buried below.

In aw of such fruits

That bears the face of a successor,

One that is not in fear of the

Lot that debar the unborn.

He’s engraved with the impossible,

But was derived from an unknown source.

Walking down this road

A view of a landless

And yet lifeless world

Has been destructed by hate.

But a gate stood open.

With favor,

He’s called.

he says,

Thy creation attempts to amend thy unfulfilled promises.

There stands mankind.