Growing up

I was too short to look beyond the ground.

My eyes spanned the insect world--

The patterns in an ant’s path were all I knew about.

Every year, I grew an inch,

And my panorama got bigger.

Now I knew about spiders and short plants and eventually,

Long plants.

I grew tall enough to where I couldn’t tell if I was eating up the information and growing larger,

Or if growing larger made me register more information.

I grew a bit taller after that, to a point where I knew about the sky.

The sky didn’t make a lot of sense to me—

It was blue and empty, it didn’t make a lot of sense to me.

Nothing did, really.

I reasoned that I must have grown too tall too fast.

Maybe I should just sit down.