I will follow you on the peripheral, delighting in wisps of your progress
like we are different people, studying your dreamy aspirations
and first, accidental penetrations into magic with fascinated study,
because they are mine:

Before you learned to lend your mind to others’ thoughts,
burbling up with their personalities and lives.
Before you took to glowing with energy,
flaring blue with the radiation from ideas.

Is there a word for physically inactive and mentally hypersonic?
My dear, it is obscene how no one notices what you are becoming,
reading a book, sitting so blatantly in the middle of everyone;
and later, casually lingering at the kitchen table with your journal,
unknowingly converting,
gads and scores of literature programming you, coding up your brain.
Your body is a mask for the amber energy sucking into your veins.

I will watch the curious circumstances of our evolution
and question the world’s blindness to your progressing, fateful condition.
As you sit there eager and innocent,
happily stringing one word after another,
I will wonder what we are turning into.

-

Click here to read an Analyzation of Poem for Myself in Elementary