Lord Arthur, hold what you see in your heart.
You are among few if you hear the stars singing,
Though that is my natural speech.
My lord, the lords of the dance, and their Lord,
Have instructed me to reveal to you
A portion of their mysteries:
Though each is to but an iota of light,
Each is a sun as our own, and each is a lord
In the dance that the Master created.
Lord king, though this conjunction foretells disaster
For your dynasty in this age,
Hope remains for you to keep in your soul.
This was a fairly early poem in my series of Arthurian poems, probably originally composed in the middle of my high school career. But unlike most poems from that period, it didn’t require much revision to fit my changing thoughts about how poetry ought to be. (On the other hand, some of the ideas don’t quite fit my ideas of the characters or the world, so still I’m not quite satisfied.)
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with yesterday’s archive installment, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also mirrored my wiki.