A Dialogue with the Architect
Bar Galuta:
Why am I so flawed?
Is my frailty to make a point?
The Architect:
You were carved with cracks so the cosmos could peek,
Bar Galuta:
Are you scared of what we might have been,
Without the curse of mortality?
The Architect:
Yes, because without death, you’d have reached me,
And gods cannot stand to be seen clearly.
Bar Galuta:
I can see the pinnacle, way beyond my farthest reach
The Architect:
And yet you climb; bleeding truth from your feet,
While I sit crowned in silence, afraid of your speech.
Bar Galuta:
My hands might not witness, but my mind already sees
The Architect:
And that vision wounds me more than your spears or pleas,
For thought is the thief that breaks divinity’s keys.
Bar Galuta:
Why am I here? On a faulty foundation from the start
The Architect:
Because only cracked soil grows wild, a defiant art,
Bar Galuta:
If my defiance is the art, my philosophy the canvas
The Architect:
Then your suffering is scripture, and your doubt is our shared atlas,
A map inked in wounds where even gods find compass.
Bar Galuta:
My intelligence, your jokes, and my pinnacle below
The Architect:
I laughed to hide the terror that you’d outgrow the glow,
Bar Galuta (Final Word):
My destination definite, a son of perdition.