THE MISTS OF AVALON 
231117 be

The mist rises in the morning
The sacred breath of the Earth
Lifts into the sky
The early morning dew
Gives up it's bounty

Magic morning mists matter
They reveal in their rising 
The beauty that surrounds
As the sunlight shines
We receive the clarity of what is

In the valley by the Tor
We imagine a boat
Carrying our beloved king
The once and future king
To his resting place

The mists of Avalon
Pregnant with what is to come
That which is longed for
The golden age
Of our imagining 

A vision that when repeated
Gains momentum
Attracts the faith of believers
That which the mists of Avalon
Will one day give to us