(Just a piece from my college poetry workshop.  I was in the middle of Mists of Avalon at the time)

The Isle of Avalon has withdrawn
Forever into mists
That can never again
Be called down to reveal
A place where enchantment
And the impossibility of a hidden world
Become reality, where
The moon opened a magical realm
In which the future was glimpsed
In a mirrorlike pool.


A world one could pass through
Without ever setting foot
On her shores…

But they tell me it was never real,
Only a creation of simpler times
When people believed in
And a kingdom that arose
Out of the hands of a sorceress,
A time when people
Believed that unwary travelers
Could stumble into a fairy kingdom
Without even realizing they had strayed.

Yet even through the practicality
Of our analytical minds,
A longing for the magic
Of those primitive times remains.
Something in our subconscious stirs,
Subtle as starlight on a river,
Allowing the enchantment to live.
It can never totally vanish
Into the mists as Avalon did…

But wait!
Avalon is not entirely lost!
It can never truly fade away
As long as its enchantment lies
In the misty minds of poets,
Waiting to be discovered,
And rediscovered.


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