A unicorn travels through the wheat and lays its dreams upon poppy pillows

A unicorn travels through the wheat and lays its dreams upon poppy pillows, Among the echoes of time that resonate in an eternal violet dusk, Where the sky embraces the sea in a mirror without lid, And the moon is a silver brooch that captures vapors of untold events. Upon its back grow flowers of light on astral paths, Weaving a sun's silk on the edge of nights too deep, In the clouds that weave fairytales into twists of white dreams, The echoes of its hooves are lost across valleys studded with the reclaimed time. And every morning, the rocks glisten with dew scattered by wings, The universe unfolds its spectacle adorned with a gentle dawn, The shadows of today’s wind skeins shake their memories onto the evening's eyelids, And place on the scarf of the sky garlands of stars that breathe untold stories. Butterflies' flights, like fairy thoughts, forge silence into bridges to immortality, In the heart of the unicorn beats a clock of emerald, timing the moment with the beats of a wing, In the depth of its eyes lies the hidden purpose of the world, A mystery that sketches out in the labyrinth of fortune of each clover leaf. Thus travels the mythical creature, crossing stories with wings, In its dance, universes gravitate, in its mane tremble legends, In a silent symphony, that plays between the real and the myth, This unique being of galaxies erases with its swift passage, my fear of emptiness. And I find myself in its shadow, architect of the floral moment, Gathering from the ineffable horizon petals of the sun that flow in white cataracts, Laying upon paths carved by destiny maps of an esoteric paradise, Where the unicorn and the dreams of this earth alternate in an everlasting dance of magic.