The unicorn was white, with hoofs of silver and graceful horn of pearl. . . . The glorious thing about him was his eye. There was a faint bluish furrow down each side of his nose, and this led to the eye sockets, and surrounded them in a pensive shade. The eyes, circled by this sad and beautiful darkness, were so sorrowful, lonely, gentle and nobly tragic, that they killed all other emotions except love. --T. H. White
Winged Majesty
i dream of winged horses
their fire known only
to the Gods of Storm
and those secrets
privy only to Creation . . .
whose Majesty shall we see only in
those parts of dreams
reality has yet to touch
all stillness as the rain
departs to allow those
rapid wings to kiss a horizon fading
that comforts them in lonely flight
winged Pegasus
may we touch
even the filtered, golden dust
left beind from your shadow
fleeting across such wanting Souls
i feel you buried in recesses
of my heart unknown to even me
an emotion never felt and pinned
in those magical caves of delight
never known to humans before
you fell to ruins in a time long before Time
when Chaos met Order
in a cosmic collision of divine Afterthought . . .
did the Gods want you for themselves to Ride
the skies between Heaven
and Earth
never
to
touch down but in
moments of reflection
when all things beautiful depart
our longings for all that remains
intangible
/s.stumpf ©
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