Beginning

I may never write like Oscar Wilde,
I may never have half as much brilliance as he,
I may never sell a single piece of art,
moving an entire group of broken people.
I don't know if a single moment of my life 
will be mentioned in some footnote of 
some historically important book.
I'm not sure I feel worthy of what I have already.

I really never know where to begin.
Do I explain this my life until this moment,
where ink meet paper and words begin to flow?
Do I simply introduce myself and go from there?
Who will read these words?
Will anyone? Friend or foe?
Will they see these words as nothing
but a feeble attempt to find some clarity
and peace o fmind
or perhaps something more profound?

Perhaps I don't need any answers.
Perhaps none of that is necessary.
Perhaps all I need are my thoughts,
an ink-filled pen and time,
​time to let my thoughts catch fire.

This is a poem I wrote when I was a teenager, unsure of where I would end up in life and afraid I wouldn't make a difference at all.