And so, it had been prophesied 

Many centuries ago 

Many eons ‘ere the sun was born 

In a time the mountains know 

The end will come upon us 

And will ravage all the land 

‘Less you summon a Protector 

Choose one to take a stand 

And he must all his days alone 

Sit o’re the rocky ledge 

To guard magenta mountains 

And stand true upon his pledge 

Beneath the two red moons must he 

Sit watchfully and wait 

Unblinking and unaided 

‘Less he close this world’s last fate 

And as long as he remains there 

In his vigilance intense 

This fate shall be avoided 

And this ending not commence 

Choose carefully, the prophets said 

And not by strength be moved 

One of might and magnitude 

Will not the end disprove 

And so the wisest of this world 

At sighting omens three 

The wax and wane of  two red moons, 

The paling of the sea 

Did choose a changeling child 

With a strangeness in his eyes 

To sit upon the highest peak 

Under pinkening skies 

And so proud was he, the Chosen One 

To do the prophets’ bid 

That he sat and watched and waited 

And that’s all he ever did 

Upon his lonely rocky lair 

This changeling has alone 

With purpose and conviction

Sat as silent as the stone 

And he has thus continued 

To keep the end at bay 

To protect the fragile landscape 

The execution for to stay 

And though the years have festered since 

The ones who brought him here 

Through centuries and eons 

He has passed as through a year 

He imagines as he watches 

That the dwellers of this place 

Have sung his praises daily 

Have exalted him to grace 

And once his praises sure were sung 

In echoing reprise 

They regarded their Protector well 

Who watched them from the skies 

And though the elders solemn tried 

To pass along this fragile trust 

It has long since been forsaken 

Has vanished as in dust 

And future generations 

Of this proud and peaceful race 

Long ago abandoned 

This naive and rugged place 

One by one they left there 

Ne’er remembering at all 

The one who had been chosen 

Their destruction for to stall 

And so he sits unworshipped 

And protects a desert land 

Unfaltering and steadfast 

His conviction still in hand 

And blessedly he does not know 

And hopeful never will 

That he watches over no one 

And surely does so still