Sentinel's Plight

Here on guard at the farthest reaches of our lord's domain 
I wait and watch spear in hand in the conquered realms of 
the old gods
The sun is beating down Scorching barren lands Bringing 
suffering to life
The long day wanes hanging low the baleful eye of light 
dusk falls across the land blackening my mood for who am I 
guarding? And for what?
Fiendish desert winds Whipping up the sands Tearing at my 
eyes
Long has it been since we've heard from home assuring our 
cause is right all that is left to comfort is our final 
commands:
"Be vigilant and loyal for our goal is just. The truth is 
ours to shape, and the world is our anvil."
But is it enough?
Cruel, harsh winds have died The whipping sands at rest My 
eyes no longer torn The moon drifts behind a cloud the cold
 is inviting invigorating darkness a placid relief from the
 oppressive sun
Velvet shroud of night Blanketing the world Graven silence 
reigns
Here on guard scarred by the wind burnt by the sun spear in
 hand I am left with my thoughts anticipation of the new 
day brings no relief