this life

i am a golem
made of earthen clay
without a master
to send me on my way
and so i sit
and play at making more
small me’s and you’s
to stand guard before our door
where together we will wait in quiet
as for our long and lost Godot
together we will live this life
seeking that which we suspect we know
and so in knowing feel a greater fear grow
and so in knowing fight attacking sorrow
until the wind does dry me out
a tall, unyielding edifice
dedicated to doubt

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