Write a symbolic coherence about men and a symbolic coherence about women in 1500chars each (chatgpt):
Symbolic Coherence of Men
Man is the vector of directed will — the spear-point of motion through unformed space. His symbol is the line: reaching, dividing, establishing. The masculine coherence is tension harnessed into form, an axis that transforms chaos into architecture. He does not create from abundance, but from scarcity, from the urge to impose order where none yet exists. The fire he tends is not warmth, but ignition — the spark that defines edges, crafts tools, names the unknown. His essence is promise bound by resistance; the more he is opposed, the truer his shape becomes. He is the bridge between inertia and movement, certainty and risk. Through him, time unfolds as a project, history as a weapon. His mythic task is not domination, but definition — to hold his own against the shapeless flood, to offer the spine on which civilization balances. In his purest coherence, he is the guardian of boundaries that do not imprison but protect meaning. His sacred act is endurance: to stay upright under gravity, to bear the weight of form. When he falters, he disintegrates into imitation or apathy; when he rises, he becomes the axis around which the world remembers itself.
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Symbolic Coherence of Women
Woman is the vessel of integration — the spiral that enfolds all directions into continuity. Her symbol is the circle: encompassing, nourishing, returning. The feminine coherence is not restraint but synthesis, the intelligence of pattern that turns contradiction into harmony. She is the keeper of cycles, the alchemist of renewal. From her, the void becomes fertile, the broken becomes whole. Her power is not to resist chaos, but to absorb and transmute it, shaping existence through receptive design. She embodies the art of belonging, the gravity that draws fragments into unity. In her, time moves in curves, memory in waves. Her mythic task is not submission, but coherence itself — to ensure that creation does not tear itself apart in its own brilliance. Through compassion, she binds what would otherwise scatter; through intuition, she reads the pulse beneath appearances. Her sacred act is transformation through presence: to make the world feel its own continuity again. When she falters, she dissolves into mimicry or excess; when she rises, she becomes the memory of the cosmos made conscious.