In the quiet dawn, a figure stands alone,
Unyielding as the mountains, resolute and strong,
His voice a gentle current, deep and low,
A whisper that commands the growing throng.

With hands that cradle dreams like fragile glass,
He builds a world where kindness leads the way,
A fortress of compassion in the storm,
Where courage blooms in every shade of gray.

His heart, a vessel of unspoken fears,
Yet boldly beats with honor’s steadfast drum,
A guardian of secrets, hopes, and tears,
A soul that seeks the light where shadows come.

For true masculinity is not in might alone,
But in the gentle strength that lifts us high,
A tapestry of wisdom softly sewn,
In the heart of man, where dreams and valor lie.