In the deep of the night,
Arthur sturred in his room,
Too many things riddled his mind,
His thoughts poisonous seeds,
There was only the choice,
To make or break it,
And Arthur rose from his bed,
Unsure of what to do,
As he paced back and forth,
Only one thing could clear his head,
The thought of that sword,
Legendary, Magestic, Pure, Heroic,
Everything he wanted to be,
It was a mystery to be solved,
Something that rumors say,
Only a King could master,
But while Arthur wanted to be King,
His desire for the sword was greater,
In the cover of night,
Arthur escaped the fortress,
And traveled up to the ancient stones,
Where Excalibur still stood tall,
Embedded amongst the stones,
In the moonlight shining,
Blinding it from Arthur's sight,
As Arthur approached,
The ground trembled slightly,
And the air grew heavy,
Weighed by tension,
Excalibur had awakened,
Arthur continued towards the searing light,
Eager to see the blade,
Wanting to feel it,
Wanting to remember it,
Wanting to uncover it,
Wanting to claim it,
Just as the moon disappeared behind clouds,
Excalibur began to burn the air,
Waves of passion fell upon Arthur,
He wanted to fall to his knees and worship,
He wanted to give thanks for this holy relic,
He wanted to make Excalibur known to him,
But as he approached the sword,
A great magick grasped him,
And Arthur was frozen,
Unsure of what wrong he had done,
But Excalibur had decided,
And without a sound slid away,
Escaping its stoned prison with ease,
And flew to the boy,
But as Arthur reached out and took the sword,
He turned from boy to man,
And the air,
Intensified,
Beyond words,
Time frozen,
Endless,
Thoughtless,
Needless,
Hopeless,
Existance,
Being,
And quietly the air returned,
The weight now returned to the blade,
The clouds uncovered the moon,
White as snow,
Revealing in the light Arthur,
Red as the rose,
And Excalibur in his hand,
Black as ebony,
King Arthur took the blade down to the lake,
And stood at the water's edge,
Gazing into the translucent mirror,
Looking down at,
His sweated brow,
His tainted tunic,
His darkened relic,
But then a voice called to him,
And Arthur raised his head,
As the Lady of the Lake rose again,
And begged for her blade,
The blade she desired most,
One that she had given,
Her Son of God,
But Arthur stood strong,
Singing the sword's song,
Breaking the reflection in the water,
He turned away,
Returning to his kingdom,
Leaving the Lady of the Lake,
Alone in the moonlight,
As she sung the sword's song back,
Like a mother calling for a lost child.
