by Marc Gunn, November 4, 2004

Inspired in part by the Lord of the Rings, this poem is a vision of hope for all who feel oppressed by forces they cannot control. There is always hope.

The sun is still unseen,
Yet at hand,
A warm mist still hovers over the land,
While all of Middle Earth Quivers
  At the terror in the East.

There in his white castle
  On his White thrown
  Sits the White Wizard
  Grimmacing.
His spells intermix with hammer fells.
An army rises from ash and soot
As he wanders among the shrubs.
His eyes afixed to the East
  And world domination
  As he brushes his hand
  Over a withered bush.

The end is near,
Yet the whispers in his ears
Are the watchful eyes
Of his former allies
And the people he thought
He had crushed appear.

The wizard's tongue may be glib
Among the men who long for justice.
But before this night is through
The sun in the East will rise anew,
And Middle Earth will at last know rest.