Unicorns don't exist.
Because sometimes just the idea is enough.

O Christ—Thou rarest flower of hearts—Thou didst sail on the storm-tossed lake of prejudiced minds. Its evil-scented, gloomy thought-waves lashed Thy lily-tender soul. They crucified Thee with their evil. Yet Thou didst shed the aroma of goodness and forgiveness, and didst help them to be purified by remorse, so helping them to become attractively sweet-scented with Thine all-loving Flower-Soul.

O Thou Great Lover of error-torn brothers—an unseen monument of the mightiest miracle of love was established in each heart when the magic wand of Thy voice uttered: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Thou hast healed the cataract of hatred, and now we have grown to see: "Love thine enemies as thyself, for they are thy brothers—though sick and sleeping."

Thou hast taught us not to increase their delirious kicks of hatred by battering them with the bludgeons of revenge. Thine undying sympathy hath inspired us to heal and wake our brothers, suffering from the delirium of anger, by the soothing salve of our forgiveness.

Thy crucifixion reminds us of the daily crucifixion of our fortitude by trials, of our wisdom by ignorance, of our self-control by the scathing hands of temptation, and of our love by misunderstanding.

Thy test on the cross proved the victory of Thy wisdom over ignorance, of Thy soul over flesh, of Thy happiness over pain, and of Thy love over hatred. So are we heartened to bear our crosses bravely and pleasantly. Teach us to pour out sweetness when crucified by harshness, to bear with calmness the assault of worries, and to give understanding unceasingly to those who unjustly hate us.

O Shepherd of Souls, wandering hearts are of themselves seeking the one fold of divine devotion. We have heard the ever-calling music of Thine infinite kindness. Our one desire is to be at home with Thee, to receive the Cosmic Father with joyous, open eyes of wisdom, and to know that we are all sons of our own One God.

Teach us to conquer the Satan of dividing selfishness, which prevents the gathering of all brother-souls into the one fold of Spirit.

Calling to one another by the watchword: "Love him who loves you, and love all who love you not," let us rally beneath the canopy of the universal sense of Christ-Oneness. Amen.

Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition

Hang on me on a telephone pole
And let my skin crackle and
Crinkle in the sun.
Let the ravens make nests in my hair
Until they cloak me with a cape
As feathery and black as death
Who comes to say hello.
He embraces me.
Tells me my soul is desirable.
He wraps his arms around me.
And kisses my mouth.
The kiss is soft and cold
And permenant

When I was a toddler my Dad brought you home
a sweet little ball of grey fur
You'd spent the whole day sleeping tight in his pocket
and greeted the warmth with a purr.
Dad wanted a smoke, so he ducked down an alley
where the boys from the boss they would hide
he noticed a bag on the floor slowly rustling
and found you abandoned inside.
You sweet little kitten, blue eyes widely staring
won over my dad with your pitiful plea
So he cuddled and smuggled you home after hours
as a companion for 3 year old me.
Now 12 years have passed and your grey fur has faded
and sleep is your only desire
I watch your eyes fade as you struggle to see me
they tell me that now is your time.
So I'll wrap you up warm in your best knitted blanket
and cuddle you close to my heart
My Hobo, my buddy, my trusty companion
It's time for your soul to depart.

Naked love
Your love and mine
Your lips touch mine...
like a hundred times each day
Your hands wrap around my waist
Never leaving my sight...
Your love and mine
is transparent indeed
Your hands holding mine
and I Hug you tight..
our hands...may
not be so pretty anymore
our lips wrinkly and ugly
but hugs are tighter
kisses are better
Intimate lovers we are
for a thousand more years..

Love knows no bounds or wrinkles
Your love is indeed very transparent
Crystal clear...

I've nothing to offer
but
my simple writing on papers.

It dances in the darkened corners of galaxies,
sleeps amongst collections of brilliant stars.
Sways with the tug and push of merry tides
bringing sweet little shells for someone to find.

Ever patient awaiting its turn in the medleys of planets,
a persistent idea over the linear logic of time.
Its lashes are made of stardust and its aspirations bud with time,
it dreams of the waking world when all is still and silent,
stirs in ebony blankets,
willing the sunlight to dawn and sift to illuminate its opalescent
silhouette.

It skirts the boundaries of a seeking mind,
giving furtive glances of its outline
seducing a victim to fill in the lines.

A tool for an artists' oeuvre.