My take on Arthur's vision for Camelot; not accurate. |
The sky, it seemed, was eternally starless. Yet, under the unforgiving sky Battles were fought. Battles were lost. Arthur lay. He first dreamt of Camelot Alone, under a dark, dark blanket Of starless sky Urging him to sleep, Deeply. Deeply. His eyelids weighed as much As the burden he bore For his people, His people. Glimpses of gleaming gold flittered under his eyelids. Camelot he whispered. Camelot he said. Camelot he shouted. Camelot! He awakened. With a gasp, he recalled his dream What was that I dreamt of? What was it I saw? A gleaming city. How could such a bright thing Come to him in the darkness of a dream. He forgot the images of Sinful Bears mauling His beloved citadel down. He forgot his city would soon lose its luster, Lose its life. He chose to push it out of his mind, out of sight. We often leave the darkness of a dream Where consciousness cannot meet it. Camelot, it seemed, was the answer. So he watched its birth, ground to heaven. It would soon tumble down, It would soon tumble down. The City of Camelot. Camelot, it seemed, had a generous sky. It mimicked the grandeur Of the City of Light. It mimicked the hope Of the citizens’ prayer. It mimicked the charisma Of the King himself. What Camelot forgets is light is easily replaced by darkness. The sun grows weary of the sky Upon nightfall each day. The stars grow weary of the sky Upon dawn each day. The citizens’ eyes grow weary of their citadel’s blinding light. They ache of too much light and loveliness. They are blinded But will see again. When it’s dark, When it’s dark. A city of light; a city of darkness. Camelot; Camelot A city of life; a city of death. Camelot; Camelot. O’er the moon. And back, Arthur commands his men. The Bear and his men march Into battle. The sounds of war fill the air Like light, or darkness. All swords and shields and nervous breaths and horses’ neighs and battle cries. O’er the moon, they march. They march to their death. Leaving the City of Light behind. They admire its gleaming walls Under a sky of silken gold, Not knowing they’d never see those same walls Crumble and fall, Crumble and fall. |