Within a mere winds wisp
from the henge,
It stands, majestic.
Built by calloused hands,
Of stone pillar, carved
By centuries of raging Usk,
to rise above Isca Silurum.
The cambion desires and dreams,
Realised by this last enchantment.
Within a mere winds wisp
from the henge,
It falls, forlorn.
Razed by calloused hands,
To jealous rocks, wasted
By centuries of cooling Usk,
to lay beside Isca Silurum.
Staring at catherderal skies
over nights of firefly summer.
Two jacks, used.
I forgive my Camelot.
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 5:12 PM UTC
Within a mere winds wisp
from the henge,
It stands, majestic.
Built by calloused hands,
Of stone pillar, carved
By centuries of raging Usk,
to rise above Isca Silurum.
The cambion desires and dreams,
Realised by this last enchantment.
Within a mere winds wisp
from the henge,
It falls, forlorn.
Razed by calloused hands,
To jealous rocks, wasted
By centuries of cooling Usk,
to lay beside Isca Silurum.
Staring at catherderal skies
over nights of firefly summer.
Two jacks, used.
I forgive my Camelot.
