It is not easy to have faith in the unknown, but people do it all the time when they place hope for a better future promised by politicians. This is no surprise, since this is precisely what politicians have been doing for ages—promising “a chicken in every pot.” Except now only the wealthy have the chickens and the pots to cook them in.
When I was a young boy around the age my younger son is now, I heard this song on the radio about unicorns; we even sang it in elementary school back in 1968. I immediately fell in love with these mythical playful creatures, and was saddened by their extinction in the great floodwaters of punitive judgment.
When my youngest son started school, I decided to make up a new story about them. This is a story that my son and I share and dip into on occasion, especially when things appear bleak. “One day the unicorns with their magical golden horns will return and make things better; after all, they are magical mystical creatures.”
It is as good a story as any I have heard. Before you say that this is complete and utter nonsense, you must remember this: so is much of what is done today in the name of politics. So, dear friends, I will take the unicorn dreams, any day. Such are the dreams of the common man; such are my dreams.