A bull Elephant,
I have heard it said,
Can be chained,
By a single peg,
The size and the depth,
Of the one that chained it,
as a calf.
The peg's roots,
Comparatively shallow,
Have deeper roots in the memory,
They mature with the calf,
Ever deepening,
Submerging within the skin of its brain,
Burrowing like a splinter,
Until it's spirit is infected.
Like the fabled 1st burn of the fire grate,
The child that is slapped,
Never relinquishes,
The first sting of it,
He wont easily return,
To the seared skin,
Of the primal burn,
And fear
Shall be his rod.
And once rejected
A child form within its peers
Shall retreat through all the years,
Recoiling like a hand from the flames,
And through the prisms
Of such mental prisons
All that is unseen
Is seen,
And the recording
I was just listening to
Now digital,
Now new,
No longer contains the jump,
But I still hear it,
And I always will,
And my mother still calls to me
Through a record scratch
That changed the words,
'So Cool'
Into 'Matthew'.
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Excellent.
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