schismatic migraine thunders
no time for lightning wonder
consciousness without orientation
regaining Percival in physical
feel the spell of Mordred wane
want to be someone somewhere
pacification displaced
replaced with estrangement
Lancelot and Percival bicker
to bear the fickle Excalibur
my Labyrinth is ruined
from foreground to horizon
but Camelot will rise from ashes
at the behest of architectural knowhow
tragedy will not strike twice
if able bodies survived Mordred’s final rites