(c) 2012 Nin Harris

I used to fear unicorns would run away from me,
because I had lost the innocence of sunrise-tinted meadows,
the first blush of dawn reflected on billowing white gowns.

Now, I roam the marshes, sometimes in watermaiden green;
others in tunics of the deepest, most tragic purple.

Some days I dance for them, in swirling red;
jangling bronze coins around my hips and ankles.

They said unicorns would forsake me.

But they come, through wind, through earth, through water.
Narwhals with their liquid song, draconic solo-hornlings from
the archipelagoes, sparkling lilac gazelles with spiralling ivory,
the dark, stolid obsidian pony from the depths of the Himalayas,
and the dappled mare from the Steppes.

When I curl upon my nest of words, they shed me of every hue
and I am left in billowing white, often tinted with the colour
of my sometime-equine companions, elected to protect
the innocence of my dreams.

like Hesse said

(c) 2012 TAB

pebbles in the stream
can’t turn off mental verbalization
give up corners and roughness
and closed mind as defense
wearing away in acceptance
need practice in deconcentration
to greet life with smooth ease