Who am I
to touch fey steel
above my station.
So many eyes,
questioning
what I myself question.
Cold and hard,
as destiny, the
hilt lies in my hand,
A mystic sword.
Is it for me
you scheme, Merlin?
My foot upon the stone,
I must dare to dream
in grander scale,
in brighter tones.
A land without a king
returns to war if I fail.
I draw a breath,
my heart holds a prayer.
Before a crowd grown
still as death,
I must fight fear,
to claim England's throne.

AAAAAAAAGH!
I have it!
Excalibur,
Pendragon rises
from his grave
into the skies
and I am he.
The land now
belongs to me
for I have drawn the sword
and killed the boy I used to be.