UNICORN

By Rachael Greaves - Year 9, 1997

In a time when magic caressed the land
And the rivers sang with the voice of joy
And powers beyond those of mortal men
Caused the tides to ebb and the reeds to sway

I was born.

More brilliant than the morning star
More pure than moonlight on a freshly laid snow
The divine creation of a goddess charm
And the power of magic from long, long ago

I was alive.

When man was a whisper on the wind
I protected the forests and ruled the skies
A mysterious, spellbinding majestic thing
The essence of freedom, the wisdom of time

I was alive.

I dwell'd in the forests, in groves rich in flowers
I danced in the streams, I raced through the trees
When men were in awe of my mystical powers
I was paragon of purity, mirth born on a breeze

I was safe.

Strong and swift, noble and kind
Serene and enchanting as a dawn in Eden
The strangest of creature, the rarest of finds
The joy of a maiden in a flower filled glen

I was loved.

I was sacred, revered, such was my fame
An iridescent reflection, a shape in the trees
Velvet lips, liquid eyes, silver tail and mane
A shining illusion untamed and free

I was respected.

In the dark realms of magic when men were not masters
They paid homage to nature, at one with the land
They bowed to the sorcery of immortals, enchanters
And worshipped the power they could not understand

I was content.

Vivacious, resplendent, noble and just,
The saviour of mankind, an image of grace
But when mankind's wants become more than just lust
There came a new trial that I had to face

I was afraid.

As babes lost their innocence, and maids lost their smiles
As men became arrogant, thoughtless with time
I was a reminder, noble and kind
Of immortality and magic, a ruler sublime

I was needed.

My supernatural powers became deadly burdens
My horn's magic properties were a trophy for lords
A medicine, a trinket, for which I was murdered
Immortality stolen by greed and swords

I was hunted.

I was tracked like a stag by men and their dogs
Chased from my lair, provoked 'til I fled
Through silvery mists and thick, grey fogs
The subdued by a maiden, with her hand on my head

I was slaughtered.

As centuries fled into the darkness of memories
So did magic, and dreams, and I
As towns buildings and roads and factories
Smothered the magic of times gone by

I was forgotten.

Or was I?