THE UNICORN

                                                     

  

 

The 

unicorn

(whose single horn,

a spiral stricter than a spire,

encloses a mystery: the purity of desire)

is said to be a mythical beast, but really does exist.

 

As

an icon

it is common

and may be green,

red, yellow, blue, or clear.

The original living one, as rare

as the Phoenix, glows sun-silver white,

but is seldom seen, preferring to remain out of sight.

 

The

unicorn 

shuns the merely fond;

the egotist and the opportunist

he fiercely resists. He will respond

only to the pure in heart, and only on his own

terms: he belongs to no one, neither wholly nor in part.    

 

It

is said

he will submit

to lay his sinless head

in a stainless virgin’s lap.

Yet were he taken in this trap,

he would be given up for dead,

and so far none (or only One) has been.

 

In    

his

nature

has been found

such sovran virtue,

beyond the farthest 

reach of science or art,

that every venomous creature

—serpent, spider, scorpion—

retreats at his approach, as if in pain. 

And yet the slightest tincture of his horn

heals every mortal ill or wound,

no matter how profound—even of the heart;

and even stagnant water, purified and free of stain,

will flow clean and clear again.

  

This                                     

above all:                             

if you are shown          

capable of truth in love,              

a unicorn is pacing on,

just beyond your heart’s horizon,

moving with you as you move.

And should you find yourself alone

and wandering in the wilderness

without hope of rescue or redress,

one may come with transforming wand

and watch over you as you change

into something rich and strange—a golden hind

or silver swan—and when you wake, he will have gone.  

 

 

 

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