Upon the shore of mystic pond
a magic vision from beyond
whitely standing, poised and strong
knowing now that life belongs…

waiting there, in purest form
patiently, to be reborn
within the heart, within the soul
within the mind of growing whole

at first, a possibility
then vast potentiality
in innocence of love and trust
a voice of bronze, the tone of rust

At dawn, the sun gleams golden now
in sheen of spiral horn somehow
awaiting only your belief
heart beating slowly in relief

as magic enters into dream
a game, a love, a life, a scheme
reflection of a world so old
as newborn story now unfolds

a tale of knights, of Camelot
of wizards and forget-me-nots
patina of a work of art
as from belief, a new life starts…

? Michaelette ?
7/3/98