I've just found this solemn poem, entitled "They are coming." Unfortunately, the name of the author has been lost. However, I am confident that the poem contains enough information to identify the author. Can you help?
They are coming.
(author unknown)I am so powerful, but I am frail.
My allies surround me, but my enemies grow near.
I am afraid that soon, all will fail.
My troops are thinning. There is much fear.They are coming.
The world is mine... but I can hardly walk.
I look up and see nothing but my foe's baleful stare.
The priests are dead. I can almost hear them talk.
A sound startles me, but it is only the whinny of a mare.They are coming.
The clock is ticking. Time is running out.
The enemy is organizing. We are surrounded. I must fight.
The clunk of wood and shattering of stone rings like a shout.
The endless battle. The never-ending war of dark against light.They are coming.