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.


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