to be me once again

I once had a poets soul. I once had words falling from my mind in clipped phrases of beauty that sounded sweetly on the ear. My heart heard different tunes and played back the melodies of living words. I once breathed life into stories of love. Today I wring rote trite from a mind scarcely stimulated and rarely roused. 

I want the bard. I want the wanderer. I want the soul of the poet that once gave me grace. I want to be me once again.