"This is the Creature there has never been.
They never knew it, and yet nonetheless,
They loved the way it moved, its suppleness, its neck,
Its very gaze, mild and serene.
Not there. Because they loved it, it behaved as though it were.
They always saved 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 strength, its brow put forth a horn.
One horn.
Whitely, it stole up to a maid,
To be, within the silver mirror,
And in her."
From "The Creature"
ShadowStorm MUSH -- The Dream of the Past
Patternfall MUSH -- The Dream of the Present
AmberMUSH -- The Dream of the Future
The Dream of the Waking World (About the Author)