The unicorn from my other life
found me yesterday.
Pewter against pewter
you would say it never moves,
but I know that the cold ice blue
of the milk bottle melts in the heat of its passion,
spiral horn slashing the wild air of remembering,
slicing through the skepticism of my adulthood,
the blinders to that which can not be seen,
taking down the tangle of thorns
that will not let me through...
Still they come,
allowing me glimpses of a world
beyond my senses where myth and magic touch me still,
laying their head in my lap,
healing the deep and dark crevasse
that runs through my heart...
Writing Small Stones,
stone circles within stone circles...
here's my second of seven stones...
come join us!