it was certain the legend was beautiful
as time can be, when viewed from eternity
as truth is, when the tournaments wear out
and the reasons for fighting
who could deny the shimmering on the lake
the hand upraised with the glittering sword
sinking down
sinking down as the sun is sinking down
covering the hills with a carmine light
that later certain painters will immortalize
at least in fragmentary dreams
when the cream of the fairytale
will spill out on the stone flagged floor
and you will start singing
a song you don't know anymore.
for certain, the beautiful song.
mary angela douglas 24 july 2022
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