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A writer is like a lonely seeker
Who wanders boundlessly
While his imagination runs wildly
In an endless search for creativity.
As the sages, the writer takes refuge
From the turmoil of the outside world
Plunging into his imagination
To gaze upon his own deep thoughts.
A writer goes beyond the wildest dreams
Imagining into the remote caves,
On windswept and mist-shrouded mountains
To let the hours and minutes dribble away without concern.
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The routine of a writer is as lonely as a snow leopard roaming freely,
Living on the rocky outcrops and sheer cliffs,
Wandering aimlessly among the dead ends.
But always unflagging, despite the barriers along the way.
Giving up is never an option.
All that really counts is to keep on going
So as to cross the wilderness of the ideas
And to reach the desired paradise.
