Lucius Artorius Castus

Artorius
I have no round table
Only nights
Spent in battle

Oh
I’m still kinsman to you
In some respects
For I know

Many things

Many dreams

What men could do
If he but considered

The whole

As with you
Rome too
Holds only misery
Dragged by the coat tails
Of false hope

No Artorius
Much as I prefer it

I am not you

Nor could I chose it
Not in this world

I am more likened unto Caesar
I battle for my own
Aggrandisement

Am I wrong
To chase the now
Per Caesar
Despite longing
For your mythos

Do I tarry too long
In this mindfield
Knowing as I do
That Caesar lives on
Through the corrupt
Tome of history

Whilst you
Dear Artorius

You battle on
As the rage
Within my heart

This modern quill
This blade with which
I bleed justice

And so

I draw breath

Douse the light

Return to battle the Saxons

Of my mind

© 2007, Mosquitobyte