Like the unicorn,
they have to need to be;
to hear our need for them to be.
they must creep up on the writer,
on the reader,
yet with inevitability
which cannot be escaped.
they must enter unannounced,
take what they must.
they must take up residence
until there is no longer sustenance for them.
they must demand entrance;
take their just exchange.
they must earn their keep
by keeping us in all we ask of them.
they must prove themselves
part of our lives
until our earthly sentence ends the dream.
they must know their place;
then be loved for themselves
beyond life itself.
For they are life,
revealing its boundlessness
with all the freshness
of a lettuce cut from the ground,
the well-prepared, fine ground
in a landscape that stretches out, is limitless.
Do not deal lightly, or be profligate
with metaphors; they are our life-blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.