"Like a lion, without fear of the howling pack; Like a gust of wind,
ne'er trapped in a snare;Like a lotus blossom, ne'er sprinkled by water; Like me,
like a unicorn, in solitude roam"--Hymn of Budda
simple magic, this moment, i can hear
the marsh weep for its lost Egrets;
that haunting quietude, a
cascade of guilt for not
preserving it There.
across the still surface of the water, shadows
pick up distorted lives
across its mirrored image
only the wind dips an occasional finger
to trace self-portraits, then Erase.
simple magic, this moment, the world begins
when butterfiles swoon and a Unicorn is Born.
the footfalls of Man still echo here . . .
the grass blades bend to wave instead of call.
I turn around to see the Unicorn no more
and leave behind remourseful tears
the Broken Earth parts to drink
an intruder still in this once Unicorn-World,
even from my distance