The Faerie Trail

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Reflections on The Lady of Shalott

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often thro’ the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
       And music, came from Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead
Came two young lovers lately wed;
‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said
       The Lady of Shalott.

She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro’ the room
She saw the water-flower bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
       She look’d down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried
       The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
       Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
       The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross’d themselves for fear,
       All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
       The Lady of Shalott.”
They cross’d themselves, their stars they blest,
Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.
There lay a parchment on her breast,
That puzzled more than all the rest,
       The wellfed wits at Camelot.
‘The web was woven curiously,
The charm is broken utterly,
Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
       The Lady of Shalott.’

 

 

the mural maps from Lost Lemuria 2

alas Lost Lemuria, that continent at the edge of memory’s ocean – fancies of youth sailing towards adventures unimagined, monsters to be vanquished & knowledge to be earned, tears to be gathered, shadows to be dispersed, yet greenmantle-cloud daisies dance & chant-sing of things lost along the way to certainty – old men pine for what was dropped along the path to independence & weary wisdom’s wandering gaze – see how the maps on these walls are now covered in indecipherable glyphs, the pieces of ideated engraved equations calculating the space between dream & memory, full of implied meaning, echoed in melodious voices rising up from that continent sitting in the depths of those long ago breezes that once brushed a boyish brow – alas Lost Lemuria……

 

Pan-Pacifica –

ever Mu-Zealandia,

dragon ships flying

towards ancient white mountains,

does the sun’s eye shine there still ?