What is this narrative I keep hearing?
About the summoning of a unicorn, a
creature so perfect, pure, white;
to be deserving, you would have to be a saint.
I am tired of listening to you rave
about ideals that are untenable, about
nothing that matters greatly, let me give you a
piece of advice: do not reach for the quintessential.
Only a flattened eye beholds that kind of beauty.