Lost King Of Avalon
© Surazeus
2018 03 01
Since the Jews returned home to Israel
after they left a thousand years ago
I have decided to re-invade England,
although my ancestors left for America
three hundred and eighty eight years ago,
and crown myself lost king of Avalon.
While I was walking down the busy street
through silver mist hanging over Seattle
when I was twenty five, almost midnight,
I saw the moon shining gold in the sky
and felt terrible grief tearing my heart
that I lost my kingdom of Avalon.
I felt the serpent witch-queen Melusine
writhing through the labyrinth of my heart
with aching hope to sail across the sea
and walk again the moon-enchanted woods
where I was born in wild Broceliande
to reclaim my kingdom of Avalon.
Following white stars twinkling in the sky,
I entered the cathedral on the hill
and stood behind the princess of my heart
while angels sang heart-aching hymns of hope,
and I wept at the memory of sun-lit hills
where children played in woods of Avalon.
One nobody out of ten million children,
descended from Oberon and Melusine,
I stand nameless in cathedral of lost souls
and dream about the angel in the woods
who called my name through swirling silver mist,
luring me to return to Avalon.
The nameless king lost in the evening land,
I walk outside in cool mist of Seattle
and listen to the ravens on the phonelines,
then laugh about the anguish of my heart
at feeling exiled from my old homeland
where I was king of fools in Avalon.
Anne Bradstreet, my ancestor, sailed away
from England to the land of Massachusetts,
then twelve more generations wagoned west
till I was born in hills of Oregon
where I climb mountains in the shining mist
and long to walk the woods of Avalon.
Bold Alberic de Vere sailed large wood ship
with Duke William of Normandy to conquer
the misty island where raven tribes played
laughing in the oak woods around weird Sarum
when Apollonia reigned in ring of stones
as wise river goddess of Avalon.
While I was sitting on the rugged slope
far from the city in the Rainbow Mountains,
strumming guitar and chanting magic spells
to waken wise Orpheus in my heart,
I saw emerge from shadow of the light
first father of my soul, King Oberon.
Though dancing fairies of Broceliande
have vanished in the mist of yesteryear
the ancient spirit of wise Melusine,
who chanted magic spells in Aquitaine,
still vibrates in the sorrow of your song
so you are always king of Avalon.
While sitting in the moonlight among trees
that sprinkle white blossoms on my bowed head
I play guitar and sing my quest for truth,
how foolish I was to rule over land
when I can journey to explore the world,
refusing to play king of Avalon.
The souls of Oberon and Melusine
with sweet Anne Bradstreet of Arcadia
sing awake in cathedral of my heart,
wherever I roam my heart is my home,
so though I wander the world lost in exile
I remain the lost king of Avalon.
I will not invade the England I love,
nor knock the nice old lady off my throne,
for wherever I wander in the world,
singing the visions that flash through my eyes,
I reign over the kingdom in my heart
as King Albert the Lost of Avalon.
© Surazeus
2018 03 01
Since the Jews returned home to Israel
after they left a thousand years ago
I have decided to re-invade England,
although my ancestors left for America
three hundred and eighty eight years ago,
and crown myself lost king of Avalon.
While I was walking down the busy street
through silver mist hanging over Seattle
when I was twenty five, almost midnight,
I saw the moon shining gold in the sky
and felt terrible grief tearing my heart
that I lost my kingdom of Avalon.
I felt the serpent witch-queen Melusine
writhing through the labyrinth of my heart
with aching hope to sail across the sea
and walk again the moon-enchanted woods
where I was born in wild Broceliande
to reclaim my kingdom of Avalon.
Following white stars twinkling in the sky,
I entered the cathedral on the hill
and stood behind the princess of my heart
while angels sang heart-aching hymns of hope,
and I wept at the memory of sun-lit hills
where children played in woods of Avalon.
One nobody out of ten million children,
descended from Oberon and Melusine,
I stand nameless in cathedral of lost souls
and dream about the angel in the woods
who called my name through swirling silver mist,
luring me to return to Avalon.
The nameless king lost in the evening land,
I walk outside in cool mist of Seattle
and listen to the ravens on the phonelines,
then laugh about the anguish of my heart
at feeling exiled from my old homeland
where I was king of fools in Avalon.
Anne Bradstreet, my ancestor, sailed away
from England to the land of Massachusetts,
then twelve more generations wagoned west
till I was born in hills of Oregon
where I climb mountains in the shining mist
and long to walk the woods of Avalon.
Bold Alberic de Vere sailed large wood ship
with Duke William of Normandy to conquer
the misty island where raven tribes played
laughing in the oak woods around weird Sarum
when Apollonia reigned in ring of stones
as wise river goddess of Avalon.
While I was sitting on the rugged slope
far from the city in the Rainbow Mountains,
strumming guitar and chanting magic spells
to waken wise Orpheus in my heart,
I saw emerge from shadow of the light
first father of my soul, King Oberon.
Though dancing fairies of Broceliande
have vanished in the mist of yesteryear
the ancient spirit of wise Melusine,
who chanted magic spells in Aquitaine,
still vibrates in the sorrow of your song
so you are always king of Avalon.
While sitting in the moonlight among trees
that sprinkle white blossoms on my bowed head
I play guitar and sing my quest for truth,
how foolish I was to rule over land
when I can journey to explore the world,
refusing to play king of Avalon.
The souls of Oberon and Melusine
with sweet Anne Bradstreet of Arcadia
sing awake in cathedral of my heart,
wherever I roam my heart is my home,
so though I wander the world lost in exile
I remain the lost king of Avalon.
I will not invade the England I love,
nor knock the nice old lady off my throne,
for wherever I wander in the world,
singing the visions that flash through my eyes,
I reign over the kingdom in my heart
as King Albert the Lost of Avalon.
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