The elephant phase

A rotund haze conjures form
In holy stupor I swoon
Holding hands close to heart
Eyes shut tight I swivel

Of a being on the mouse
In corpulence no worse
Flowery essence permeate air
Seeping in the holy flair

Swallowing the chakra
Of your uncle, you tease
Clasping ears cross-handed
Holding you in splits appease

O, lover of orchard produce
You savour them and ladoos
Touching the nimble feet
In absolute mirth I seethe

You taught us of a world
Your parents, your universe
Worship them, pray to them
The victor you my supreme

Unceasing devotion I profess
Never undulate my verve
In fervid vigour I serve
To success, you my access