This page was written by [Chrysilla]



 First of all, what is an unicorn?
 “The unicorn is a kind of horse”, would people answer.
 But the unicorn is a horned horse.
 With his horn made of ivory and gems, of stone and silver, the unicorn lights up the stars.
 In the evening, when the sun sets and the moon raises, the unicorns horn touches the sky.
 The pale light makes the unicorns wings gleam like silver.
 The stars wait for him, ready for the ball; the unicorn spreads its wings, white like the angels` ones, rushes and leaves the ground.
 He touches with his ivory horn the small stars.
 He touches with his silver horn the blue stars.
 He touches with his stone horn the extinguished stars.
 He touches with his gems horn the Milky Way, which is nothing but the way the unicorn follows to reach the stars.
 His silky tail extinguishes the sun.
 His breath with scent of stars lights up the moon.
 This is the white unicorn.
 But the blue unicorn… oh, the blue unicorn has a very different task.
 The blue unicorn carries the dreams.
 He shows up when the white unicorn retreats in his shelter made of perfumed, magical herbs. The blue unicorn tramps. His hoofs sparkle. His mane swells.
 He pricks up his ears.
 His tale whips his thighs.
 He waits.
 What for?
 He waits for each child to fulfill his blue wallet with blue, flavoured hay and the blue mug with the crystalline spring water that looks blue under the dark blue evening sky.
 He waits for his blue wings to get coloured by the blue perfume of the blue enchanted forest.
 After the unreal-blue fairies swell his mane with calm, blue dreams, the blue unicorn dips his blue muzzle into the whispering, blue water of the enchanted spring and drinks for long.
 Then he spreads his blue wings, hits the air for a few times and he disappears, swallowed by the dark-blue sky.
 From his blue wings, blue dreams spread towards the houses.
 Nobody sees him, nobody hears him, because the blue unicorn confounds himself with the blue air and the steam of his breath looks like dreams.
 When everyone wakes up in the morning, there`s no more blue, flavoured hay and in the blue mugs there`s no drop of water left.


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