Saturday, 15 August 2015

A Blessing of Unicorns

My poem today draws upon inspiration from the work Susanna Clarke, J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter S. Beagle and Walter De La Mare. There's even an allusion to Dante.

A group of unicorns is called a blessing because unicorns were a symbol of pure innocence and magic, seeing one was supposed to bring good luck and fortune to the gazer, ergo seeing a herd of unicorns would be a phenomenally wonderful event, hence blessing.

A Blessing of Unicorns

In my dream, one night, I chanced to go
On the King’s Roads, that which we know
Only from legends; it is in the land beyond
And behind where reflected images abscond
Of all the mirrors of the world; and though
That path is closed, strange winds still blow
And the traveller, by luck, blown by wind
Can chance in dream where worlds thinned;
And in these thin places, a crack may be seen
To the other lands, of faery folk, and if keen,
Gain entrance through vision, dream, inner sight
Especially when dreaming just before the light
Of day breaks, under a sky of shooting stars
Wishing upon the fissures between, the scars
Of times when this world and that of the fey
Was much closer, could be traversed in day,
Through open portals, not just mere crack;
And now I chance upon a winding track
Of the main road, towards pine trees,
And I feel the coolness of that other breeze
Which always blows along this faery land,
From mountain top to coast and sea and sand,
And into the dark wood I go, yet not despair
Or abandon hope, for here is surely not to fear
But to encounter wonder; and along a stream
Beneath the canopy of leaves, dappled sunbeam
I chanced upon a sacred grove, and to one side
A pool fresh filled by stream; there so I eyed
A blessing of unicorns, gently drinking water;
And beside them Goldberry, fair river daughter
Gently stroking their manes, speaking soft words
Of enchantment, to protect, keep safe the herds,
Who had long fled our world, in Middle Ages,
Hunted down for horns by Kings and Sages;
And the last unicorn fled when Victoria’s throne
Was barely sat upon, through an arch of bone
Since crumbled to dust, and no way back
Along that strangest faery twilight track;
Yet here they still live, and I rejoiced to see
That they flourish, bring blessing to me
And all travellers who chance upon the way
By day or night, to faery worlds. Yet to stay
Long is another spell, one I do not know,
And dawn brought waking, the sunset glow,
As I departed this land where I felt so free:
A land of my magic path, where I can be
Who I was called to be, a wizard born
With blue cloak and staff do me do adorn;
But I shall return, in dreams, once more,
When times are right to pass this door
By shooting stars, or beneath a blue moon
Come magic openings, come ever soon!

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