I am a Man

On the cusp of the northern canals, he sits.

Confronted by the ox,

Comforted only by the welcoming protection that his mother's tendrils offer.

Man begs the beast,

for man is above all and yet below it all.

The animal greets him with comfort.

I am not an artist.

I am not an engineer.

I am not a musician.

I am not a philosopher.

I am not a carpenter.

I am not a writer.

I am a Man, and that is okay.