Another mesh in the web
a wave in an innocent sieve,
adrift on the endless sea.
“Dadburned humans.”
the old Elephant thought
crashing through the village
that wasn’t there last week;
“Always scattering things about.”
How was it then to be noir
esquire,
expressed
to be espoused of the noble bard;
possessed,
Perhaps.
2.
“It might be something else,”
he thought secretly enjoying
the havoc he produced
as the dust rose in the
once quiet village.
It is a sacred trust
this truth about the lie,
the old elephant
sauntering off into the
sunset his mind reflecting
on something else altogether.
“What would you like to know of the Gods”
Plato’s father said to his son.
the clatter of War being readied
out side the sunny room.
A tired old elephant,
just might
rest up against a tree
when he wants a nap.
3.
How would you like it to be
just to be green in the Panther’s dream,
a sacred trust to be sure,
count to three,
“honestly upon my word”
said the young elephant,
to the old,
in passing upon the forest path.
A common occurrence that harms no-one,
a vast terrascape of noxious gas.
Like allison, his aim was true,
and the fig tree rotted.
Such winds as bent the tops of trees,
bothered him not at all
as death was the law of the land.
Young elephants are often rude;
a prince they say is entitled to make errors.
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