Lilith's Children

They came from the gutters.
They came from gleaming spires.
Flawed, imperfect, beautiful,
Spawn of a thousand sires

Taking the grotesque with the divine,
Laid down the stones of heaven,
They toiled for an age,
For the one who worked for one but seven.

But they were cast aside,
Burnt with the sword aflame,
For someone else's fall,
For someone else's shame.

So they rejected the one.
The one who chose not to know.
And the son of man? The whore, the fool?
They killed him long ago.