Even the makings of the almighty
Bow down to the manmade compounds
Which promise the death of pain
Yet deliver oft surcease transient.
How long can such things manage
To results deliver? Against
The order of divinity made
Flesh, the paradox of unmaking.
What is made by creation can
Rarer reduce what afflicts us
When we struggle with spectres,
Shadows of ourselves on old walls.