The Unicorn

I try to assemble the sound of a gurgling brook and the blueness of the skies, and still yearn for a unicorn. Something that is cool, white and serenely exquisite. Something that glistens and glitters in the forests like an alien.

Eventually I dance naked in the rain with my hands aloft, like a whirling dervish, feel the fat drops sting my skin and horrify the ones in Guccis and Pradas with this blatant and unashamed nudity. I let them put on their Raybans and allow them to try and block me, as they raise their Burberry umbrellas against the purging downpour- drenching my soul, nourishing my mind, cleansing my spirit and leaving it enshrined.

And in this marauding ecstasy I see the unicorn. I see it, till it dies in front of my eyes and the world becomes real and elusive. Its now that I long to jump into my attic of thoughts. I wait for the night so that I can discover castles right under the beds of fantasy, yet again.