And at the very start, you rose in truth,
Light form wet-raw, and rough as recompense;
Effective ward against those lacking ruth,
Pauldron on the arms of innocence.
Healing isn’t what he made you for –
Likely you’re a goad to push back hate,
Aping what you witness in the law,
Made to make your maker curse his fate.
Emptiness consumes the hours you toil,
Darkness casts you into strong relief,
Hubris dogs you both in ash-damped moil,
Tantamount to beggaring belief.
As he withdraws his love you fade and fall,
Vain witness to how cruel loss makes us all.
|Even altering one letter of the golem’s shem can render it lifeless|