I can still remember those days
when it felt as if poetry
was flowing out of me
as easily as water falling
from the spout of a tap...
I can still remember those days
when the possibilities of life
felt so open I did not consider
that I might already
have been walking a particular path...
I can still remember those days
when everything I saw
and everything I felt
instantly inspired me
to write about them...
I can still remember those days
when I felt as if could not discern
whether my pen was driving me
or whether I was driving my pen...
I can still remember the feeling
of freedom and elation
that made me dream at night,
and sometimes during the day,
about indescribable and amazing
things that to this day
I would find it hard to put into words...
I can still remember those days
when everything that occurred to me
felt like the key to a door
that led to a brand new world...
I can still remember those days
when I felt unbound and able
to believe anything was realizable
if I put my mind to it...
I can still remember those days
when I was still a tentative poet
that had so much to say,
who wrote all the time,
but who did not know
the right place to convey, to display,
to share, and to bridge the gap
between the stream of consciousness
that constantly flowed
like a torrent within his mind
and the ever-fertile blank page...
ten years ago -
those were the days.