He is a man.

He is flesh and blood, sinew and bone.

He is of this earth, and he is of the stars.

He is hunger, thirst, and yearning.

He is wholeness, stillness, and goodness.

He is a man.

He is of fathers’ spirit and mothers’ womb.

He is the son of sons and daughters.

He is a living font of memory and imagination.

But he is not the sins of the past, and he is not your darkest fears.

He is so much more.

He is a man.

He is a teacher, ever learning.

He is a dreamer, and he is a builder.

He is the keeper of tender moments and quiet regrets.

He is the noble heir of kings and paupers.

He is your kin just as he is mine.

He is a man.

He is love and anger, aberration and providence.

He is the longing in his eyes and the lines on his face.

He is burdened with labored breath and fateful tears.

He is persistent, though he is finite.

He is needed, he is wanted, and he is breaking.

Officer, please.

He is a man.