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This is the Creature

This is the creature there has never been.
They never knew it, and yet none the less,
they love the way it moved it suppleness, its
neck, its very gaze, mild and serene.
Not there, because they loved it, it behaved as
though it were. They always left some space.
And in that clear unpeopled space they saved it
lightly reared its head, with scarce a trace of not
being there. They fed it, not with corn, but only
with the possibility of being. And that was able to
confer such strenghth, its brow put forth a horn.
One horn. Whitely it stole up to a maid----
to be within the silver mirror and in her.

By: RANIER MARIA RILIKE