Shields of glass
My gaze interrupted by windows dimly lit
Your dormant palantiri
What goes on in your hidden bastion?
I hear the grinding and whirring of your endeavors
But see not the product of your industry
See the smoke hurriedly escaping your chimney
Twirling, tripping, tumbling
Why does it flee?
What goes on behind those eyes of yours?
Do even you not know anymore?