Come, take my hand

and lead us back to Camelot,

to Logres and Arthur, Britain’s king, Britain’s legend,

its round table and its knights, chivalric men of honor

and justice, sworn to protect the helpless, these spiritual

and moral men of character, dutybound, might, even, for right.

 

For the King is the land, is the people, symbiotic,

interconnected, all three one thriving together, but …

disrupt one, one off, one in sickness, a ruler tainted,

selfish and greedy, calling himself mighty, powerful,

all knowing now, but morally failing, forgetting his place

in this triad, shattering a sacred bond; or the land laid bare,

a wasteland, infertile, nothing flourishing, flora nor fauna,

but sludge and smog, smoke and fire, nature blighted, ravaged;

the people, too, famine and turmoil, an emptiness of spirit,

lost and wandering, uncaring, careless, hate-filled,

defiled, a sickness; and the healing question is yet unasked,

all for the lack of a pure heart questing for an answer

to restore a king, restore Logres, and humanity.

 

Lead us back to Camelot, Britain’s king, and chivalrous

knights, to begin, perhaps, our own quest for the Grail,

for the restorative and healing power of that holy chalice,

regenerative and life sustaining, lured as we are towards

wholeness and healing, purified, reconciled, transformed.

 

And the question we ask now of the Grail, the Grail question asked:

“Whom does the Grail serve? What ails you, ails us?”

and the healing begins.