I drink a tea of verses
infused from hidden dreams
and sup on story:
water from a rock and manna sweet,
nectar and ambrosia;
and upon the side
a pepper grown from heartache and desire
garnishes the graceful greens
of humble hope and broken pride,
to give them subtle fire.
I saw the monoceros
and wanted it for my own;
it was as large as a horse and white,
with a poison-slaying horn
high-exalted with salvation
like the mighty.
I ached for true possession;
but hounds cannot catch nor arrows harm it;
it can be killed but never taken.
To kill it you find a virgin's lap;
laying down its head, it gives life over
and falls to mortal sleep.