The sun began to set, giving off the illusion
that it sinks into the ground. The sky
breathes pink and orange and red
as the light seethed through filters of clouds.
The emerald grass became a dark blanket
as the sky became a ceiling of blue.
Shadows fade away as the shade
reaches out to itself, eventually meeting
in the places where light is most fleeting.

A veil of fog rises, engulfing the countryside
as if the clouds themselves descended
from Heaven to caress the Earth.
The mist is almost tangent,
swirling and dancing along
long lost remnants of Avalon.

Heaven this? What, these tumbled
pillars of Stone? These corroded
tabernacles of the Holy?
Elysian fields of greatness,
aye, but not this!

The mists twirl, taking the shape
of long lost revenants that haunt
the living. Faces smile and grin,
bear witness to pain and agony
and the anguish and anger within.


Footfalls, heavy with armor,
light with apparitions
echo off these once majestic halls.
Avalon is no more; a charmingly
disarming legend never to be forgotten.
The Fall of Avalon
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