Beneath the moon’s cold, solemn gaze,

Where winter spreads her ghostly haze,

The unicorn moves, pale and fleet,

Its hooves a hymn to snow’s soft beat.

Through frozen woods, its shadow glides,

Where frost has stilled the rushing tides,

And every breath, a silver flame,

Calls forth a world of nameless name.

Saint Lucia, crowned in holy fire,

Steps forth, a dream of pure desire;

Her hands like lilies, pale and true,

Her eyes deep wells of haunting blue.

They circle slow, in steps untold,

Where time is young, yet death is old.

Their dance a spell, a fleeting rhyme,

Unbound by earth, untouched by time.

Then winter folds her cloak once more,

And silence claims the snowy floor.

But echoes linger, sharp and sweet,

Of hooves and light where shadows meet.