Where do ideas come from?
Where do dreams take birth?
Perhaps from the observation of our fellows,
As they go about their ways,
Perhaps they are the imaginings of the spirit world,
Deep within our subconscious selves.
There are those who delve into the dark side,
Into the pain and the sorrow,
To gain fresh insights,
To produce tales of narration.
This is not literature, but a catharsis of sorts,
An expiation of sin,
And perhaps, the road to a personal salvation.
The adept must learn,
To translate his experiences in life,
Into a literature of hope,
And one of universal meaning;
Beyond a mere account of what has passed,
Into a narrative of what needs to be done.
This is a time tested way, this is the way of old.

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