Biographical Anecdotes Of An Elephant

I dream night by night of the snow that used to fall from your heart onto my scalding hot being. Intuition plagues me with lucid recollections of the bannisters that so supported your shaky limbs as you navigated the residential museum of my lineage as laid down for display at your hearth. As she watched on, we danced to the chimes of your everlasting hospitality. As life went on, her memory imbued each and every trajectory. An infinite microcosm of life was tucked into each particle of dust that made rest on your countertops. Within the historical cabinetry, you housed nourishment that could last days less than your riveting blood. International figurines bore watch to every breath you took, every ounce of oxygen you so heaved into your delicate and aged lungs. Damn is to the pitiful plaque within your arteries of steel that so robbed you of this earth and took with you – a longevity I will never understand in my own tongue. Woe is to the knees that must support my appendages each time they fall in remembrance of you. Did you feel the warmth you created? Were you immune to your own light to the point you could not see the inherent worth your outstretched arms harnessed with a characteristic dignity? Woe is to my destiny of musing about a life where scratched records spun around a needle and held you and I close as supreme kin. If the sounds did not haunt me so much as an innate burst of enthralling existence I might walk away from your daily memorial unscathed. Nay, I carry wounds lethal as artillery that I one day hope morph to peace doves that I may release in honor of your humble and pure being. If your insides were fashioned to become a carcass of skin I might delight in filling the mold until your pelt may grace this earth again. It is with the genetically predisposed deoxyribonucleic acid code that I guide my fingers over the pages of your saga. I hope never to end until I am back to where you begin. Never have I laid eyes upon as many blankets as so fostered by your heart . . . And the day I find the moon, I’ll give it back to you and hope that you may trek the heavenly pavement that I so envy with the celestial lamppost as absent amidst the farmland between you and I many nights ago.