BLUE UNICORNS

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Man looking for his unicorn.

Submitted: July 19, 2016

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Submitted: July 19, 2016

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BLUE UNICORNS

A Lesson of Love

Norberto Franco Cisneros

cisnart @q.com

 

Outside the rain drizzled, barely wetting the dirt, but

Fogging the windows.

In a corner of a child’s playroom a puppet tells me,

“The Master is looking for his lost Blue Unicorn,”

I tell the puppet I don’t know him and

Haven’t seen the Blue ‘corn.

 

He says, “The Master plays guitar and

Sings sadly about his lost Blue Unicorn.

Do you hear him…?

He loves his unicorn so much.

 

In the time of the Unicorn’s youth,

The Unicorn told the Master,

“When I grow up, I want to explore the cosmos,

Investigate life with all its fantasies,

Truths and contradictions, and to

 Make things better for everyone;

That is my life’s dream.”

 

Recollecting that memory of long ago

When the unicorn was a tiny foal

The Master continues to sing.

Immediately, many voices around the world join in unison

A choir of heavenly angels couldn’t have sounded better.

 

At the speed of light, the harmonious melody wound its way

To a solar system beyond the Eagle Nebulae

Towards a tri-colored moon in Orion’s belt.

Meteors dashing across the sky for millennia,

Remnants of ancient fleeing comets.

In that solar system, Mondays do not exist but

 Saturdays do and are mandated ‘Sing a Song Day’.

 

Hearing the Master’s melodic lament

Makes the puppets cry.

They raise their voices to merge with

The sounds weaving through the rings of Saturn;

God! But the harmonics in the echoes are beautiful!

Now I know where Silvio Rodriquez lives, the poet troubadour.

He writes melodies and harmonies that break your heart.

 

Two puppets encircle my feet silently

I lightly kick one of them and it laughs

I kick the other and it cries dry tears

The puppet’s tears fall as white confetti around my shoulders

Like snowflakes falling on the floor

They form a silhouette of the Master playing a guitar

Crying for his Blue Unicorn

 

The Master is desolate and can’t be consoled

He says, “I left him at the Alter of the Moon.

He told me he’d be there till I returned. Where can he be?

Oh my, oh my, where could he have gone?”

 

Sometimes, those whom we love

Do not necessarily stay put and wait for us.

No matter how we weep for their absence or

Sing sad, beautiful songs;

They remain gone.

 

Unicorns, sons, daughters and some lovers are like that, so

Let them go, but

Remember the Blue ones that tug and play with your heart.

They are curious, have wanderlust in their hearts, and

Stardust in their eyes,

If they return

You were always in their hearts and

They were never gone.

 

 


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