Our Golem Sheer

Tell me,
what form does it acquire
that which shape our fears
that which coils and slithers
through our darkest
and loneliest hourS
would they be a warg
or shelobs
or the fell wraiths
whose curse it has been
to stalk our nightly terror
Or could they not be that
which corresponds
to the moulds of our pride
our virtues, our hope
our prettied treasures
perceived, bestowed
or wrenched so dear
that which cast
the queer and inverse reflection
of us as it were
In truth, could the ghouls
of our fears be merely us,
our secreted self,
our hidden face
the essence of our distilled soul
embittered,
our golem
sheer

-from Suhaimi