My DiaryLand Diary

2001-09-18 - 8:17 p.m.

"Do you know what I am, butterfly?" the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied, "Excellent well, you're a

fishmonger. You're my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, you're my pickle-face,

consumptive Mary Jane." He paused, flutering his wings against the wind, and added conversationally, "Your name is a

golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

It's a rare man who is taken for what he truly is," he said. "There is

much misjudgment in the world. Now I knew you for a unicorn when I first saw you, and I know that I am your

friend. Yet you take me for a clown, or a clod, or a betrayer, and so must I be if you see me so. The magic on you is

only magic and will vanish as soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear

forever in your eyes. We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream."

And in the whiteness, of the whiteness, flowering in the tattered water, their bodies aching with the streaked marble

hollows of the waves, their manes and tails and the fragile beards of the males burning in the sunlight, their eyes as

dark and jeweled as the deep sea -- and the shining of the horns, the seashell shining of the horns! The horns came

riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.

i needed that

-bsg-