Where the unlimited, expanding, limiting itself as it expands, <br />reaches where it can limit itself no further – <br />there it is; there in its, our, world; there you may see it; <br />where it could not be more beautiful <br />and yet be seen; where it could have <br />no other form, and still have form; <br />where it is most itself. <br /> <br />And so, where we are most ourself, <br />when we are most ourself, it’s there; <br />near; you may see it; you may not; near; <br />you and it, so close; and where <br />we are where all the stories tell – <br />the gate, the door, the mirror, the key that calls the hand, <br />the undergrowth pushed through, and there – <br />in the clearing in the woods, it is; <br />treading on the silent mossy ground, <br />can white be so transparent? <br />waiting for nothing and yet there; <br /> <br />where the limited meets the unlimited, <br />where we know <br />that whom we always knew we are, <br />unlimited; <br /> <br />Unicorn.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unicorn-11/
