May I someday be a poet in my own way

 Poetry … has to walk in the darkness and encounter the heart of man, the eyes of woman, the strangers in the streets, those who at twilight or in the middle of the starry night feel the need for at least one line of poetry … This visit to the unexpected is worth all the distance covered, everything read, everything learned … We have to disappear into the midst of those we don’t know, so they will suddenly pick up something of ours from the street, from the sand, from the leaves that have fallen a thousand years in the same forest … and will take up gently the object we made … Only then will we truly be poets … In that object we will live …

-Pablo Neruda