Lady Lancelot put her sword aside
And took up her pen and made dragons
Breathe, giving these beautiful beasts
Her fire and when once again
She took up her sword, she sang
And the world grew dark and strange
And full of light. Danger everywhere.
She hardly knew what she had done.
She had bent the light and played with fire.
There was no world that was not her song.
Her words had torched the frozen sky.
All that was left was a poet’s life.
She sat alone now upon the sand
And all she knew is what she sang.
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