Before the Dream
By: Lawrence W Langman (c)

On horseback they rode
in single file.
Down the mountainside
their stories beguile.

His stead charcoal black
with eyes as deep.
His muscles just roared
shiny and sleek.

His men at arms, 20 fold
devoted to his cause.
Followed him in battles
despite all his flaws.

He had a jaw like an anvil
and fists made of stone.
With his sword he had named
he was never alone.

Arthur was his name
is mother had given.
His country torn asunder
his legacy was driven.

He aspired a kingdom of
white towers and walls.
One that was serene
and the fairest of them all.

Yet something had stirred
behind the scenes.
Far beyond a castle made
of Kings and Queens.

Magic was sadly afoot
on this dark mired day.
Something laid in darkness
where shadow dare to play.

For where dost courage dwell
inside the hearts of men?
Is it in their mortalities that weigh
their evils and their sins?

We all have heard this story
written in many ways.
Yet no one's told of the battlefield
after ravens taken away their prey.

These fallen men of standing
with banners proud and strong.
Would never know the future
and the realm they won't belong.

These lives were gladly given
for countries sworn to call.
The bannermen of Camelot
they'd never see befall.

For all the fallen that lie dead
and buried in the snow.
There'd be no gates of golden
and the honors they'd bestow.

So when you think about Excalibur
and his knights of the round.
Don't forget of his fallen men
that lay buried in those grounds.