Through the Mists of Avalon as a Way to See the Ascension

 Teamwork with OpenAi

They said Avalon was gone.
That the priests had buried it,
or the tides had swallowed it whole.

But the old women laughed in their shawls,
and the youngest priestess leaned close to whisper:
"It is still there. It always was.
Only, you must match it to see it."

So the seekers came in boats,
oars biting the water like teeth,
but the mists swallowed them whole.
They returned empty-handed,
swearing Avalon was a lie.

Only those who stilled their breath,
who tuned their hearts like harps to a higher chord,
found the fog thinning,
and the shoreline unfolding before them
like a lover’s face after years apart.

No map could guide them,
no compass could point the way —
for Avalon was never “out there.”
It waited, layered over this world,
a realm braided into our own.

Gaia, too, has such mists.
She turns her frequency upward,
like a dancer changing the rhythm mid-step.
Some will feel the shift and rise with her.
Some will keep rowing through the fog,
insisting nothing has changed.

Avalon is still here.
So is the New Earth.
The question is not where they are,
but who you are when you arrive.