To graze forever in the poet’s heart; how could this, <br />they asked, be possible? An image, yes; <br />a memory; but could it really live its life within the mind, <br />graze undisturbed, at ease, at home, <br />and glance the grave, sweet meaning in its eyes, <br />when there’s so much of else that fills the world, the mind, outside? <br /> <br />Those who first saw it first, were content to be, just gaze, <br />attention focussed as its heavenly horn marks head and mind, <br />drinking in that other which themselves would be; <br />but as its sightings grew, so various, <br />the theorists sought to build an image <br />around that which they had not seen, <br />worshipping a space in which it was not yet; <br />it must be questioned, says the ordered mind. <br />Others who had not seen it wished <br />to have some part, share in reflected glory; maybe learn. <br />It’s understandable. That, too, the creature understands. <br /> <br />But those who’d met it, in a forest glade, <br />or, mane tossed by the wind, among the high clear hills, <br />or proud-necked, white-toothed like a smile, clear-eyed, <br />among the white-foamed waves – they in whose minds <br />a space already was; a space, a peace, a stillness - <br />knew, gracefully, that it grazed in its forever, lived <br />within themselves; <br />self-moved; self-stilled.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unicorn-5/
