You are my unicorn:

real and unreal,

a product of the imaginative,

but tied in the senses to the earth.


You live, but you have died, and in

your quiet sleep you come to me

as eIven, as person, as the dream

of what was and might have

been in the palace of beyond.


Come to me my unicorn, running and

free, and not constrained by your

earthen prison where suffering

was the course of your day.


Come to me and live forever in

these living thoughts that take

you too another place that

imagination reserves.