Parade outside, everyone together now accept the swaying elephant. Dancing and moving to his own weight. Pulsating for the ache to go away. He sways so elegantly one may think he is funny. Little do they know he is droopy and drained. Only the motion between him, the dirt and the air keep him here on this plane. He doesn't know how to stop this humorous way.
The dust rises from his deep folds causing pigeon feathers to puke. He puts his his trunk to his heart hoping it might awaken . Alas he realizes that he is unaided in a small room, his head touching the roof, the walls not wide enough for his heavenly grey robe. The ground begins to heat. He calls for water, the swelter to be released. A pair of slippers for his dry tattered feet. The sun peels them back red and raw. An invitation for rats to nestle in. His soles now full of rotting hot apple, it moves like seed, a crumbing stout, the famous ears, all a glam, the children cheer.
His eyes near eclipse, the sway begins to mute. Flies dressed and ready to build a boot. He surrenders the temple, his grand hall, now full of troops. Sore tooth pillage the mighty creature beds his myth. Twists and curls the fetus crowns, a space womb surrounds, the light plasma all warm chords of melon yellow sounds. Elephant sways into a dream. Only the death rocking saves him from the vultures hip hop knocking. The armies suckle on the sap, where now, vermin fill the pit and squatters sit.
Goodbye elephant, your sway stains the dirt where fungus rules in honour of your search.