Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The Quest Knights sent, and returned

Many of Arthur's knights and squires were sent
From other lands many more would seek
The Grail was the object of the quest
The Holy Chalice was desired
To heal the wounds so deep
By those of virtue and by those without
Lancelot was called the perfect knight
Yes he was a warrior
Without peer
He was tormented by desires of the flesh
His way of the sword was perfect
His quest was filled with battles
Lancelot littered the field
With blood and bodies
Of the dead enemy knights
Who died by his hand
And although he struggled
With finding the grail
He made the path of others clear
Sacrificing his glory for them
And by doing so, he saw behind the veil
That his soul might be made right

Parcival and Galahad
Were men of peace
They were amongst
The most elite of men
Known as the greatest warriors
But far greater was their faith
In the course of time
Of Arthur's reign
The many gods had fallen
To the worship of the one
They were filled with hope
Never despair
They received the sanctification
For their path
With prayer over
The quest begun
Parcival, Galahad left
Knowing their role in the grand scheme
Of righteousness

To quest for a religious artifact
Requires the sacrifice
Of innocent blood
And upon the path
Many fell
And became the perfect lamb
For the forgiven sins of Arthur

While three knights saw the Chalice
Only one could approach the vessel
And touch it
All the while choirs were singing
Anthems of beauty
And of restoration
Of the King's domain
Arthur's wounds in his soul
Became visible
And the torment apparent
The chalice would restore him
The blood of Christ would renew him

Shells in the undergrowth
Tangled in thorns and tree roots
Skeletons in armor, no longer moving
The many sent who never returned
Over time are covered in moss and vines
And their shields and armor are rusted
The bodies become one with the land
The earth is returned with its own
And King Arthur's most trusted
Are now gone, from this place

Galahad returned the grail
And placed it before Arthur's lips
Drink from this my King
He said, the lord bids you come
One sip from the chalice
Restored Arthur and his land
His flesh renewed
His spirit vivified
He was again king
And his land was one
With his being
Turning green from gray 
The land now blooming
The Holy Chalice
Receptacle of the blood
Carried water made holy
And became holy fire
In the blood of Arthur
Restoring his spirit
Connecting his soul
With the land
And his lord

As if Arthur recovered
As his life had moved
From winter to summer
Upon becoming at last whole
Arthur became aware
Of the many sorrows
His land had suffered
The Saxons had attempted
To take control
Following the restoration
The lands were green
But after the battles
With the Arthur of legend
The grasses were crimson colored
And for a time
Until the last battle
Arthur's reign again
Was glorious
And his domain's path went upward
As his rule was without peer