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'Tis a mystical place
halfway to somewhere
and in the middle of your dreams.
Where the unicorn are safely cherished
free to roam and wander
doing that which comes naturally to the unicorn
when they know
they have no enemies!
This is the creature there has never been.
They never knew it, and yet, none the less,
they loved the way it moved, its suppleness,
its neck, its very gaze, mild and serene.
Not there, because they loved it, it behaved
as though it were. They always left some space.
And in that clear unpeopled space they saved
it lightly reared its head, with scarce a trace
of not being there. They fed it, not with corn,
but only with the possibility
of being. And that was able to confer
such strength, its brow put forth a horn. One horn.
Whitely it stole up to a maid - to be
within the silver mirror and in her.
-- Ranier Maria Rilke, The Possibility of Being

The Unicorn
Written by Marlene Bucci

He hides by day,
and searches by night.
The last known unicorn,
with the coat of angelic white.
It's almost as if he's magic,
the possessor of powers unknown.
He keeps the hope of finding another,
but he is painfully alone.
Being seen by mankind,
would mean instant death.
Due to life's attained ignorance,
they would take his last breath.
He wants so badly to nuzzle,
close to someone safe and warm.
But this hope slowly fades,
as does night with coming morn.
He remains forever brave,
and holds his head up high.
Sometimes on a quiet night,
you can hear his mournful cry.
He will continue his search,
until his dying day.
The majestic and beautiful unicorn,
who is perfect in every way.
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You are listening to 'Greensleeves.'