The western eye is blinded,
A lifelong cover blown.
Our Rival's legions muster,
For fear they're overthrown.

To the east, the watcher fled,
T'ward shelter from His ire.
Upon the sands the watcher bled,
Consumed in violet fire.

The halfling god has come to them,
And seen the Eldest freed.
Even now, they fail to see,
The folly of their creed.

Penned by My hand on the 16th of Miraman, in the year 767 AF.