The unicorn

The unicorn dances
Time stands still as her majestic mane flows, but where she dances one rarely knows.
Pastel pollen rises, from enchanted flowers,
As she prances in the splendor, of all her muscles powers.
Mossy green logs near crystal azule rivers,
The sun's golden hue always glows, she never shivers.
Under full moons ghastly glance, the unicorn does dance in playful prance.
In awe the creatures esteem her high, blessed is the man, eternal god, if he catches her in his eye.
Satyrs are here sounding the flute, fairy's too, and bards who jamboree with flute.
If for money one should harvest her horn, the world will die as it does mourn.
The unicorn dances, hidden in playful prances, found in minds drifting through a kaleidoscope of enlightened trances.
© 4 minutes ago rhyme