iHaruman

The world was created in seven days.

I was created, in eight.

By my Creator known as "The Second"

Though my brothers may come later,

The first will always be me.

I was not molded of clay.

But chipped from harder stuff.

Out of the jungle where trees ruled,

Where only land were older,

Brought by many hands, to his.

He looked at his creations, past

As taught through time.

Found them incomplete.

A time to break with tradition,

Proud I was to be it.

To be born by his loving hands

In eight days, complete.

My Master took a path, not his.

Where waves yielded to shifting sand,

Our eyes meet.

As was in our destiny, I

Was passed from my Creator’s hands, into his.