I am a Writer
A blank page, a pen and my fantasy; bring them to me and I will write you a sonnet.
I am invincible; I am broken. I have blood in my ledger and I have been slaughtered. It was me who embraced the dark side of the moon long before they started talking about it. I was born in the darkness, for the lights prefer to worship the political reformers and the abject bureaucrats. And in the veil of the enduring darkness, I found a reason to exist. It was my vision to create a fascinating world, illuminate it with jewels, and immortalize it. I taught the world how to love and in the spirit of that love, they found life. I may not be the bearer of rains, but the merry songs that compliment the rains were born within me. If it wasn’t for me, there would be no legacies, no hymns to sing, no martyrs to celebrate, no lessons to be learned. I dare to imagine, I dare to revolutionise. I dare to wake up every day with a song in my heart and a fable in my head. Some stories, I write for the lost souls of the world looking for a way back home and some, I save for my own.
I live on the dark side of the moon.
Yes, I am a writer. I boast a royal history and I will write another one. From the ashes of the humble past, I will create a magnificent future; a future as bright as the wings of the albatross. Not because I wish to be commemorated through ages, but because none other can bear the weight of such a godly act. I belong to a race which has seen the most creative and righteously blessed humans of all times. Tagore is my god; Francis Bacon is my consigliere. Shakespeare is my inspiration and Paulo Coelho, my godfather.
I once said that some emotions cannot be expressed in words and to this day, I contradict myself almost every time I pick up the pen. I do not earn as much as you do, but tell me is it money you really desire? In this ever stirring world, where peace seldom finds something to restrain his hunger, I often tend to offer him a piece of my art to feast upon. And whilst you preach world peace, I believe that with a little more imagination and a beautiful dream to live for, there will be no more struggle, no more wars.
Yet, if you still feel the need to ask me why I chose to become a writer, I will write a sonnet for you.
All I need is a blank page, a pen and my fantasy.
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