He, From Afar

From a far, 

the man stands. 

From a far, 

he watches, 

the rays of light from which they came, 

sparkling off, 

his skin a flint. 

Mists rise from the craters, 

pains of token come. 

He switches stance, 

the warmth of earth presses his eyes, 

dusts of time coming in winding, 

in close to time again. 

His telescope yields high, 

and what he sees is of dire. 

For it is he, 

that we so much admire.