Such a gentle creature the unicorn,
whose soul must belong to the wind
only then will she be born again.
For in death she does sing her song,
the song of tranquility for in this
she will appease her subduer.
Though her fantasy has been
to live forever, she has chosen
to run upon the golden shore.
The wind without a sound,
releases it's captive down to
the desperate world below.
Her hooves of fire blaze the night,
like a shooting star taking flight
into the midnight velvet sky.
Her tears of joy paint the heavens
like the gleaming dew upon the
fresh earth bound flowers.
As she leaves the world behind,
the heavens welcome her with open arms
to embrace her loving, serene soul.
Such a gentle creature the unicorn,
whose soul must belong to the wind
only then will she be born again.
