Margaret Jarek


mjarek Thursday July 4, 2019

Unicorns 512
When the purple spires of the lilacs waft their heady scent all across tis valley town I find my thoughts turning to the legends of the unicorn.

Whether we view this magical creature as a metaphor for the incorruptible spirit or simply as an image upon which romantic poets gaze in their flights of fancy, there is no doubt that the existence of the unicorn tugs gently at the corners of our lost innocence.

The unicorn belongs to the ages we celebrate his legend in art, in story and in song. He has outlasted so many mythical creatures from ages past and thus is an easily recognized icon even in this age when materialism and so called realism have wiped out all traces of anything that cannot be validated by our scientists.

The unicorn is a composite creature. He is pictured as a fine boned white horse which possess the beard of a goat and the hooves of an antelope. But it is the magical horn protruding from the center of his forehead that conveys the message of his magical powers to anyone fortunate enough to encounter him in a flower strewn meadow or an enchanted forest. His coat is whiter than new fallen snow. His mane and tale are shimmering silver-the color of moonlight across the water. The horn itself incorporates all the colors of the rainbow and sparkles like the finest gems.

In lilac time, the legend tells us, come trooping down their moonlit paths to sip the delicately flavored dew from the lilacs when the moon is full.

Like the human soul, the unicorn must remain free and who would seek to capture or imprison such a mystical being would court his own dark destiny.

Whether they exist in our world as a three dimensional being whose existence is a scientific fact or are only the result of a poets imagination, they remain a testament to the simple fact that there remains deep down in our souls a longing for a lost eden where innocence ruled and beauty reigned supreme as long as that dream is a part of our other wise mundane lives, the unicorns will come at twilight to sip the nectar of the lilac as poets and dreamers pay homage to the dream.

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