The Watchers

Born unto a place
Carried there from a point in space
Behind a distant sun
Shrieking winds and shifting sands they hide

Twist the golden strands
And in the chalice formed this creature man
Unto his daughters born
The giant's roam and their eyes they shine

The years they fled
But the tail survived the skin they shed
Line of blood alive
The words are few and you know they thrive