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