World-weary,
Eyes teary,
The Wizard
Casts the Last
Enchantment.
Merlin in his
Final hour
Coming down
Now, from his
Tower, making
Passes with his
Hands, magic
Trailing, as he
Stands, now,
And the world
Fades, he is
Now but a
Shade, haunting
This magic
Forest glade.

In the light
Of the standing
Stones, Gawain
Reminisces
About days
Of Glory old,
All alone.
Round Table
Broken, now,
Knights dispersed
Without the Grail,
The land is cursed.
Lancelot and his
Misdeed, have hexed
The crown and
Planted the seed
Of corruption in
The lands heart.

Arthur, Mordred,
Locked in battle,
And Morgana
Laughing, waiting
For the Wizard,
Who never comes.
The soul of England
Sleeping, waiting
For the Return of
The Wizard of Avalon,
The end, suspended,
Within the bubble
Of the Last
Enchantment.
Waiting, for the
Return of Merlin.