Where the unlimited, expanding, limiting itself as it expands,
reaches where it can limit itself no further –
there it is; there in its, our, world; there you may see it;
where it could not be more beautiful
and yet be seen; where it could have
no other form, and still have form;
where it is most itself.

And so, where we are most ourself,
when we are most ourself, it’s there;
near; you may see it; you may not; near;
you and it, so close; and where
we are where all the stories tell –
the gate, the door, the mirror, the key that calls the hand,
the undergrowth pushed through, and there –
in the clearing in the woods, it is;
treading on the silent mossy ground,
can white be so transparent?
waiting for nothing and yet there;

where the limited meets the unlimited,
where we know
that whom we always knew we are,
unlimited;

Unicorn.

Michael Shepherd

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unicorn-11/