A childhood insight lured me here
as if by some strange spell,
where legend claims that if your foot
should fit then you'll do well
as ruler of all you see from here.
Well, I've no idea if it's true,
but it's worth a try if this place you love
and it's Spirit is calling you.
For here lies Arthur's footprint set
like Excalibur in solid stone,
and only The One Who Will Come can claim
the Pendragon's Cornish throne.
So with heart aflutter and eyes tight shut
I slip in a size two foot.
But, alas, mine is far too small to fit
this ancient shrine underfoot.
There must have been some grave mistake,
for how could this possibly be?
I've always been aware that I am Arthur,
just as he is surely me.
My alter ego all this life he's been,
and I bear his Mother's name.
So if I'm not the Chosen One,
then who has that claim to fame?
It could be you - so if it is
please promise me before
you take your place at the Table Round
that His sovereignty you'll restore.