There’s been a resurgence in nostalgia for BBC’s Merlin lately—it seemed fitting to recall the time I was ten and sat cross-legged in front of the TV for hours on end, starry-eyed for what essentially was my entire known idea of love at the time: King Arthur, and his queen Guinevere. There’s something inexplicably beautiful about a love story as tragic as this one, and I don’t think it’s one I’ll ever be able to take out of my heart. So, here’s a fairytale about the knight in shining armor and the queen of the castle.
One.
Fallen kingdom of molten bronze
Two.
On a bridge of wings and stars
Three.
Dandelions of the hilltop; cold solitude
afar from the river
Four.
Silhouettes of light on Thanatos’ shrine
Five.
Tales transcending fate and time
Six.
Times broken
Seven.
Times mended
Eight
Legends never die, stardust in
your blood and mine
Nine.
Tailor-made gowns of rose silk
Ten.
Years on ice-cold sheets and white hot glass
One hundred.
Vows under fields of anastasia
—the rain resurrects, but
it will not heal
One thousand.
Shades of red on
her wedding dress
One hundred thousand.
Knights in shining armor; baptism in war
sun specks in his hair
blue butterfly in her hand
not all that glitters is gold
but when blood runs like water rust is age old
once and future,
time is fragile and love is forever
One thousand.
Universes in
one million
lifetimes
One hundred.
Drops of tears for every
ten
drops of hell
on his soil and on
his name
Nine.
is meaningless; asleep
—as the mountains of late spring
Eight.
Rewind.
Seven.
Kisses on the sun, lonely and pure and slippery
in the running stream
Six.
Heeded the call from the valley of
once and never
Five.
She is a flower
Four.
She is of the golden sigil,
he is of her heart
Three.
For what is and what never should be
Two.
Stars
One
soul.
Cover Photo Source: The Eclectic Light Company
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