Write about serenity.

the serenity of glass elephants

it sits and waits…
  for what may very
  well be an eternity.
it cares little for
  time, nor for all of
  the other words which
  could be spoken.
it cares only about the truth…
  for that is what lay
  reflected crookedly within
  its body.

how ironic that before fire
  ever touched its body, it
  could have been a handful
  of sand within an hourglass…
  although in that form it could
  have been perceived as impatient…
  incessantly pushing for an answer.

as an elephant however, it
  is serene.  it is slow and
  methodical, much like this
  conversation that i am having.
it is quiet, but that is because
  it is far more enjoyable to watch
  these people suffer with their
  conscience/humanity/societal training.

finally, i point to the glass elephant
  in the middle of the room, and with a
  thunderous phrase, smash it into a
  multitude of shards… the likes of
  which took her from me.

“i miss her too.” i speak quietly.

their faces melt into easy, and
  i wish it had been that easy for me.

“we are so sorry for your loss.” they
  hurry to say for fear that the moment
  will pass and they’ll not be able to
  break the silence once it has returned.

now i’ve nothing but the memory of
  the elephant to comfort me… and the
  guilt of having destroyed it.

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