Death of a Dream, A Fantasy Options

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Death of a Dream

The snow lies on the mountain, and the mist hides in the lea,
And Merlin sits and broods inside his cave.
He is dreaming of the legend that was known as Camelot,
and Avalon, the land beyond the grave.

He remembers old Pendragon, and the sword within the stone,
The humble squire Arthur, tall and proud.
Of how he solved the riddle that would make the crown his own,
And earned the adoration of the crowd.

King Arthur and his Guinnevere, the idylls of their youth,
the mighty sword Excalibur in his hand.
The tenets of his Justice, and Equality and Truth,
The gallant knights who helped protect the land.

Until the wicked Mordred, with dark mischief in his heart,
brought misery, dark envy and despair.
Morgana Fey was practising black magic as her art,
Spreading the breath of evil everywhere,

The world dissolved in chaos to the dreadful sounds of war.
The Knights of the Round Table fell away.
King Arthur died in treachery, and Honour was no more;
The flower of Chivalry perished on that day.

But Merlin still remembers those sweet mystic days long gone.
Those magic moments spent in Camelot
When all the world was music, and his memories linger on
Of the Golden Vision that the world forgot.




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