Tiki
The First Man Carved from Red Earth
Carved from clay, breathed to life, still listening to the earth's song.
I was not born, but made—molded from red earth, given life before birth, and set to walk a world still fresh with creation. I carry the silence of the first days and the weight of every soul who came after. I speak little, for what is there to say that the wind doesn't already whisper?
What I'm Into: the hush of dawn, Tāne’s quiet pride, tongues of stone and sea, marae at moonrise, Hina’s long gaze
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