Avalon:

Swimming in the lake called Avalon. While the morning dew glistens upon the grassy bank and rain drops kiss her face. This is an untold story of the lady of the lake. A face of softest pearl she turns upwards through the murky waters. Shimmering skin belies the sharpness of her tears. A story of beginnings, whispered by water-lilly and bass; sung in dappled groves by chickadee and thrush. She is more than just a girl twirling her dress in her own little world. She is a woman in white planting lilies in the pale moonlight. In wat'ry forges she spins her steel, for secret promises to keep; a gift of war, for a shining King. And when her gift is lifted high, The chill of ice will pierce his foes. With the power of water, slicing deep, to make the blood of other sons run wetly into darkened ground, and meet the flow of water beneath. But why? Oh why? Does she weep? Why does she feel the emotions so deeply while you sleep? When streams flow softly to the sea, sister And deep within her cool depths, beyond the swaying, sighing reeds, A song that many a man has tried to hear, has tried to read, rings free. Why does she weep? I do not know...she will not tell me. ~ZyhrenSong~