Riddle

Trapped in the stubble of his beard

Was a zephyr of mystery

Of thoughts that resided within him.

Unfurled within his reach

Were sylphlike convictions

Of men filled with self-doubt.

Ideas, fettered in frail minds,

Walked away to their freedoms

Further delaying the take-off.

So, unshaken, he carved a path

On the rock hardened by naysayers

Bit by bit, piece by piece

Till a towering statue of magnificence

Stood in place.