I am not a brilliant child.
I cannot, on sensing majesty abundant
Craft it in a soft, small package
To be pondered by the world.

I am not a brilliant child.
I cannot, if faced with complex computations,
In the genius of decoding
Brandish simple intellect.

I am not a brilliant child.
I cannot, in knowing your life's backward story,
Comprehend and, with a smile,
Point you to the forward paths.

But I see you, silent stranger,
Dressed in all the perfect quirks of human nature,
Carry that which I do not bear.
I, my brilliance lies in this:
They may stroll by,
But I know
Brilliant.