by David Blalock
Who understands the Unicorn?
Whose mind could delve so deep?
Who'd recognize the secret beast
That in all hearts does sleep?
What kind of mind could comprehend
The lust within our souls?
And who can say, without a doubt,
What truly are life's goals?
Can each of us allow our lives
Be guided by desires,
And still expect to find reward
When all our time expires?
Can Unicorns be so immune
To rationale and reason
That, even when it means our death,
We seek to find love's season?
And love and lust one and the same?
Or lust a part of loving?
Do Unicorns contain life's aim
Or just a moment's pleasure?
© 1998 David Blalock
(Originally published in The Golden Treasury of
Great Poems, John Campbell, editor; World of Poetry Press, 1989, p. 21)
I have written a series of poems around the Arabic image of the
unicorn: winged and black. It represents the baser instincts in man in
a way that is not conveyed by the more western unicorn. Although
westerners allow that the nature of the beast can only be tamed by the
innocence of a virgin, they do not address the why
of that assertion. I
have tried to capture that reason in these poems.
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