Organic.
As if it grew itself
from the rock.
Thought itself
into existence.
And, by coincidence,
spawned a thousand tiny dwellings.
Imperfect imitations.
Head high.
Gaze adverted
from the parts cast furthest,
most shadowed,
least ordered.
Smiling benevolently
on parts displayed,
photographed,
prized.
Among the flickering existences
it remains constant.
Believing itself Adam.
