Dawning Creations

Turn another page,
the repetitive motion tiring my arms,
my mind becoming drowsy.
It becomes more evident.
I’m transparent, naked in candle light,
reading the words written before my time.

Knowledge, this new is exhausting but I desire it.
I desire the graceful take over, the peace.
I’m transparent in this light,
in the vastness of this shadow ridden room.
Other than the book, the candle, I’m the only solid form.

I am still as wispy and frail as smoke inside,
soon to be full of new guts and electric impulses in the knowledge.
Metamorphosis was beseeching my timeworn mind.
Alter me, beg the questions, turn the page.

I plead with my eyes,
just a little while longer.

Turn the page.