The elephant king emerges from arch, darkened and revealing. For little princes concerned, he brings with him a question of onyx, sealed from yesterday, too brave for tomorrow. Laden with promise, this question holds and enfolds the several thousand moments of enlightened perception, which each young child shows to their flaming blue center of curiousity; encrusted with this catharsis, their bodies turned from a dark biology to this insane treaty! Do you remember the document you signed brother, my friend in hostility waning down, widdling all our cherried and filial and damp desire. The memory of this confidence is complete and wondrous, without any need for clever postures and rallies unending in their patronizing. It is clear and decided; the promise is yours also, the king is your footstool.
His seal may be opened without breaking posterity. The promise is the burden of truth.
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