Max Reif - The Magic

The way I understood it, growing up,
we were to become
something special with an outline as thick
and distinct as a figure in a child's drawing,
something that was a state of being
as separate as butterlfy from caterpillar,
something as much its own species as cat —
something like <i>doctor</i> or <i>lawyer</i>
or possibly architect,
and this would all take happen
in a completely natural way,

and from that place of arrival
everything else, other people and situations,
would have thick outlines, too,
and we would act upon them
with the <i>mana</i> of our special status
and make them
become what they were supposed to be.

Maybe that's why at 58,
with my identity and profession
still less than a talisman
and outlines everywhere in the world,
including my own,
remaining very vague and ambiguous,


I often wonder if I'm an adult yet,
or if that kind of magic
is just about to kick in.

Max Reif

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-magic-3/