Darkling sky flashes blue—
Ravens wheel through thunder,
Fleeing terror, shrieking murder.
Hillside blazes red—
I press on through rain and smoke.
A wounded rider passes me, cries
“Camelot the golden has fallen!”
Beyond the ridge, ruin:
Corpses quench earth,
Castle walls broken,
At the center of it all, the Old King,
Brought low with all his Knights,
The Red Dragon vanquished by the White.
I watch the Round Table drug out,
Hitched to a team of horses.
The victors hack it apart—
The Dream is dead.
At the lake, unseen,
The Lady sheds her tears
For the passing of an age.
I bear witness to the end of chivalry:
Of all man has conquered in nature,
Man could not conquer himself.
There will be no revival,
No Second Coming of Arthur.
I flee the White Dragon,
Follow the ravens into a dimmer world.