I Thought I Was a Poet

I thought I was a poet who held a pen mighty, Who could at will and with ease, rewrite history, Who easily could weave the most colourful fairy tales, And blew strong winds through imagination's sails. I thought I was a poet who wrote in gold, And allowed the cloth of the future to unfold, And who made the lakes and the seas and the rivers, Glimmer ever brilliantly in twinkling forms of silvers. I thought I was a poet, but disenchanted by perfection, I cast aside and rejected my ideas to turned to imitation, And as I am now, without insight, I have lost my true muse, As I am now, disillusioned and unmoved, my pen has no use.,