To the Unicorn

                 The unicorn gallops through forests,

                         softly eluding the dawn,

                              faster and faster the fleetest of feet

                                   passes the speed of the song.

                Enters into light years of quickness,

                       disappearing as magical ones do,

                             woven into the fabric of the universe,

                                   the unicorn takes wing and is gone.

              Now captured by tapestry's taper,

                       man's nimble fingers weave on,

                             the unicorn caged only in carpet,

                                  threaded with gold and a song.

              But if one looks closely in darkness,

                     to the still point before shadows end,

                          then perhaps we'll catch a glimpse

                               of the unicorn,

                                     galloping,

                                           galloping on.

                                                           s.k. lindeman