There was no room here
there were no walls, no air, no light
no place for a soul to ball up and cry
no place for a heart to shatter
or a little death to cry out
merrily over and over.

Until the advent of words
the culmination of hope
the amalgamation of eternity
into trust.

There was no floor here
there was no ceiling, no definition, no understanding
no here for a man to be a man
no here for a woman to be a woman
and no new life
where numbers might become
colors. colors might become
shapes, shapes might become
bodies, bodies might become
spirits, spirits might come
together.

Until the advent of thoughts
The culmination of poetry
the chewing and swallowing
of the flesh
the digestion
that becomes
us.

Until the elephant
was painted pink
then purple polka dots were added

Until the sound of his trumpetting
burst from the no one
like the melody of salvation.

Until words became thoughts became the poem
became the elephant became the crux of the situation

Now there is room
for the elephant
and all he brings.

I believe in him.

And nothing bad ever came of an elephant in the room.