The Lost Elephant
I move through the world, not in haste, not in fear — but with the quiet knowing that I am out of place. I walk among ants, watching them scurry, each step precise, each task urgent. I marvel at their rhythm — but I do not follow. It is not my way. I sit with the dogs, warm and loyal, their joy simple, their world small. They welcome me in. They make me laugh. But I do not stay. It is not my home. I wander further, through forests of faces, cities of voices, and deserts of silence. I listen, I learn, but I am still a stranger. You see, I am an elephant. I do not run with wolves, or swim with fish. I do not fit in just anywhere. I belong to a herd I’ve never seen — a rhythm I’ve never heard, but somehow, I know it exists . Somewhere out there, there are others like me. They move the way I move. They pause where I pause. They walk through life, not in lines, but in waves. I’ve been without them for so long, I wonder if I’ll ever find them again. I wonder if I’ll even recognize them when ...