The funny thing about elephants is this:
even if you don’t name them,
they will still wander around your room
causing havoc with every burdened step;
ignore them and they will stand up
on your coffee table and pirouette
You spin me right round, baby
Right round like a record, baby
Right round round round
They’ll kick your stuff around,
kick you too if you’re within reach,
rattle your brain with a petulant trumpet
until you give in, give up,
give alms to their need for attention.
because right there is salvation.
One might, as the elephants
spin their tails of woe,
take counsel from that pirouette
Like a record baby,
Right round, round round
and remember the ballerina,
her secret trick of spotting
the constant, the unwavering in the whirl.
Now name it, call it what it is,
and change how you look at things.
Watch out, here I come