Foreword: All gender-specific pronouns aside, this applies to all of ye.

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Tell me friend, if you can,
What is it that makes a man?

"Does what make a man lie in his skill with the sword?
Or perhaps within his rapier wit?
Was it the time spent under his father's hand,
Or the time spent suckling at the tit?"

Nay.

"The time spent studying as a child then?
Or stumbling through his first fight?"
Finding his way in the Darkness deep?
Or saving himself in the Light?"

Nay.

"Defending our origin, the forest green?
Or following Evil in Strength?"
Finding the meaning of his Sleeping Dream,
Or spouting poems at length?"

Nay.

"Perhaps..."
Please! My friend, just stop.
It'll take you a million years.
"No, I know this one, I'm sure!
It's facing one's own fears."

While fear's important, we digress,
For it's none of those.
A man's not made through sword nor wit,
Not Good nor Bad nor prose.

A man can find himself in that
which he finds peace and joy,
For all of us are self made men,
Built up since we were boys.

And now here we all stand tall
(Or short for those like me)
Amidst a land of hate and war
And love and peoples free.

We are all where we stand now
By no hands but our own,
Some standing among the ranks,
And some standing alone.

But some are happy, some are not,
So I ask you keep in mind,
We are all just self made men,
So take some of your time.

Look within. Look without.
See what you can see.
Do that which you wish to do.
Be what you would be.

Make the mirror show the face
Of the man you want to be.
Make the mirror reflect back
A man who would be free.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Sarapin, in the year 675 AF.