I seem to be binge-reading Pablo Neruda's poetry these days. So, I just had to share this from Neruda's Selected Poems, a poem plainly titled Poetry (La poesía), exploring Neruda's revelation about being a poet, about wanting to write poetry, the tentative first lines, and how it made him feel. The third stanza is stunning:

And I, infinitesimal being,

drunk with the great starry

void,

likeness, image of

mystery,

felt myself a pure part

of the abyss,

I wheeled with the stars,

my heart broke loose on the wind.