The Watcher

60x80cm Oil on gallery wrapped canvas      

Atop the hill, where shadows cling,
The watcher waits with silent wing.
Eyes like lanterns, gleaming bright,
They pierce the stillness of the night.

Unmoved by whispers, soft and fleet,
Unmoved by hearts that beat in heat.
They see the world through quiet grace,
A timeless soul, no form to trace.

In storm and sun, in dusk and dawn,
They stand alone, a shade withdrawn.
Beneath the moon, through winds that sigh,
The watcher gazes, never shy.

They know the secrets of the skies,
The weight of stars, the endless rise.
Yet in their gaze, a calm persists,
A silent poem, a cloud of mist.

A watcher never seeks to claim,
The shifting world, the fleeting flame,
But only, still, with ancient eyes,
To see the truth, where silence lies.