As golden light beams sprayed the dawn,
and early birds sang Nature’s song,
I stumbled upon this rock, the one
so kingly crowned by our great sun.
Ancient and royal, stood the stone,
down through The Ages, sinking alone.
My arms reached out ~ my hands felt glory.
Then I heard him tell his story.
A lady arose from the fabled lake
to give me a sword I could not forsake,
until a new King would arise
for only He could take the prize.
Many a brave man struggled here,
but only one showed no fear.
A boy, no less, took a try
when no one else was standing by.
Taking a grip with two small hands,
planting his feet on Royal lands,
gently he tugged, so easily
I could feel his love – melting in me.
My solid core then vaporized,
and Arthur’s face showed his surprise!
He thrust it to the sky and beamed,
“Thank you, God! for making me King!”
* * * * *
When out came the sword from my breast, I wept
for the glorious gift I so long kept.
No longer was I a stone in need,
and only rocks that roll feel free.