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A huge monster, in a dark land, with a bright beam shining in its eye.

The Watcher Speaks to the Eye-Beam


Why do you stand out, bright one, against Doom?
We are the last of Ends, devouring all.
The mortals you guard are sunk in gloom;
You cannot even move to heed their call.

What hope has then your feeble glow
To break our final power, our iron might?
You cannot end our Eating; you only slow.
What drives you on in hopeless fight?

© 2009 by Banks Miller.
Image © by Stephen Fabian.