The mists over Avalon rest peacefully over the blazing
rooftops of the quiet city.
Rays of streaming brilliance caress the statues so
abundantly placed,
In gardens and parkways, boulevards and fountains.    
Frosty blades of grass give scent again,
And cracking masks of stone reveal the glowing essence
dormant within.
The frozen seagulls over the bay echo the sea breeze in the
dreaming trees,
As they too stir from their slumber for the first time in
millennia.
And I, standing at the highest tower of my sleeping
kingdom,
I smell the first given scent of a frosty blade of grass,
The fresh and salty air coming from the sea,
And I feel hope again.