Have I Degraded? Or, Have I been Degraded?

Where are those days of trivial glories,
When I used to ask mom,
Mom! How is it? I created it?
It is my invention!
I proudly claim to my stupidity.
"Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?"
I ask from Nights and even from Days
The transmuted path, of that glorious bridge
Sketched earlier by Plotinus on that day
On which vainglorious cannot step.
And i worry, have i turned one of them?
The imbecility of my younger age
Have ripened and soaked by starved realities.
Have fled, and cowardly ran away!
Leaving behind some memories and me!
Leaving behind some memories and me!