Avalon

I have taken a lot of pictures from this spot in Glen Ferris West Virginia. It’s not really an island but the Kanawha River makes it look like one. In my imagination the mountain becomes the mythical Avalon. Perhaps if I wandered down into water’s edge I would notice the glint of steel beneath the surface. I reach down to lift the magnificent blade from the murky water. The hilt is exquisite. The sword feels like an extension of my body. I look up to her. Dressed all in white and standing on the other side of the lake. She doesn’t speak. She simply acknowledges the fact that she knows I’ve seen her and she begins to ascend up path into forest. She doesn’t bid me to follow, she dares me to. As I ponder the choice a boat glides silently to my side. The bearded old man in the stern gestures for me to take my place in the bow. I climbed and took a long look back at real world as it faded away into the mists. Perhaps there’s time to slay one last dragon before dinner. Perhaps … just maybe, the real secret to eternal youth is to never pass on a chance to dream.