Insane Love

Insane, insane what follows old A tragedy yet to be told. Though ye walk through the valley of the shadow of death, It is love that we most of all must bequeath. Amongst green pastures grows a flowering field One not tainted by what this life yields. Some where in the withered forget-me-knots It lives long enough to be what it ought. A shining prince upon a silver steed Riding home to find that which was decreed. Nothing more than just a thought Of something born here in Camelot. Oh mastery of misery art thou my friend? Do we have so much to gather or defend? Send us upon this grievous plain To battle all that must be regained. Oh ported soul of Arthur’s gallant lot Send to us the dear Sir Lancelot. He be the bravest of all heart, His bravery known right from the start. He hast no legend braved in fear Doing the right by his lady Guinevere. Life deals us such a broken art Of a re-painted love here in Camelot. The quest be of ill fated charms Where love survives the coat of arms. To be so brave is to be a slave Fighting for the thing we crave. For no coat of arms can delay Love’s onslaught once on display. For to pour the grail back into the flask Would be to hold love as a captured task. For ‘tis love that captures all at last. And nothing loved can ever truly pass. Though the lance laid silent Lover Lancelot His secret survives him here in Camelot.