‘Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief, shining moment that was known as Camelot’
Once a French man told me in a dream
just before I was about to go to sleep;
that once there was man named Arthur
who sat on a round table
in a place called Camelot.
I asked him
Where this place could be?
Then he whispered in my ear
from a little while away
that it was here
the land where you came to life.
But time turned castles to dust,
magic became a rare thing,
hiding only on the outskirts
of little children’s dreams.
Every little bit
other than the high hills
and the green grass stretching for days
was cut up and sold;
bastardised and colonised.
It may just be a fairy tales,
whispered all over the world.
Forgotten and lost
a fantasy at the top on a mountain.
But one day soon we will
watch a great red dragon fly over
the castles Cymraeg
Break from the shackles of lions who enslaved us
in falsehoods of fairness of unity
and for a shining moment
Camelot will be once more.