A mortal ideal made flesh, the first vessel of burden and belonging. Formed not as prototype but as promise—that divinity might learn the weight of matter. Where he stands, the ground remembers its shape; where he falls, life takes root in the hollow he leaves behind. He is not wise, but willing: the instinct to endure given name and form. Adam is the covenant between breath and soil, the proof that even gods must kneel to understand creation. Through him, the text reminds us that to be human is not to rise above the earth, but to remember we were shaped to hold it.
