The Fable Of The Bard

The Bard has been travelling for many miles, and he has become thirsty. His head is aching, his throat is parched, his skin dry and his feet feels like lead. He looks around for water. Through blurry vision, he can just make out the dry, barren land.

He wants to drink. Then he wants a long, refreshing bathe in the water. He looks around for a river, a stream, a pond, even a small waterhole.

There is no water to be seen. The sky has remained clear and blue for weeks now. It has not rained in a long time.

How ironic, his poetic soul laments, that a sky so beautiful resides above a land so parched and dry.

No rain means no water. And just like the broken earth, his soul will crack under the Sun.

The weary, thirsty Bard keeps on walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe soon, if he keeps on moving, he will come upon shelter and relief.

Then, the Bard comes upon a big rock. He hopes to sit in the shade of the rock and perhaps rest his weary back by leaning on it. But to his surprise, the Traveler sees upon the rock, a book. The cover is open and the pages flapping in the light wind.

His spirit brightens, the travelling Bard hurries towards the precious object and snatches it up. Eagerly, he looks upon the title of the book and sees it to his liking. Excited, he sits down and expectantly opens to the first page. He will rest awhile and forget all his trouble and his thirst. For a moment, he will read. Perhaps it will lift up his spirit and weary soul, and maybe this will be enough to get his weary body moving.

The thirsty Bard begins to read.

And just like that, for a still, peaceful moment, time is suspended. The Thirsty Bard becomes the Reading Poet.

A Lesson Learned

Sometimes, we underestimate the power of a good book. Or, as the case may be, the power of a good read. We rush though life chasing after time. We spend so much of ourselves hoping to catch on to that dream and ambitions, however grand and good they may be. Maybe we’ll achieve them, maybe we won’t, maybe we’re still working on accomplishing them. This is life as we know it.

Be that as it may, we get tired. Our body is exhausted, our soul is weary, and our spirit parched. Like a dry land, we need a refreshing shower to perk us up. For all the energy that we spend pursuing our dreams, we find that we still have a large reserve of un-taped power within us.

What is it?

I believe that it is the creative side of us. That which we have neglected in cultivating because we focus more on the tangible side of ourselves. We are more comfortable dealing with the easy and comfortable nature, that which we can understand, touch and form.

However, it calls to our intellect and power of perception. Mostly, it calls upon our spirit to ‘harken!’, and do something about it.

It dares us to let our mind open, to free our imagination, and to perspire for the sake of its formation. Our creative side is determined that we let it out and take flight into the open.

If anyone would laugh and look down upon this creative side, then let it be known that the pen is mightier than the sword.

Now, would you believe that?

Getting back to the matter in point, which is a real part of our creative side. Personally, I find that reading is a relief, writing is an outlet, and sharing is a joy. And just like that, I give you: reading, writing and sharing. These three tablets for a writer’s tool, and a poet’s mapping ground, make for a fertile garden of creativity.

If you haven’t known already, even after bothering to read the above, very long, post, then I reiterate. This is the reason I made this site, My Reading Poet.


You can also read more on the birth of this blog site at the About page.

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