I have skipped a day.
I have lost a beat.
The lost ripple ruined me.
The serenity of my monotonic symphony got disrupted.
Within the ebb, I got lost; I lived without a purpose, confused, anxious, alone.
In the shadows between the waves of imagination, I felt cold.
But never again. Never again shall I sit idle. Never again shall I waiver. Never again shall I be eclipsed.
Arise in the name of the muses.
Arise in the name of Apollo.
Hold the sword of humanity and march: march into the unknown and conquer the oblivion of your meagre existence; march with the greats hand in hand and page by page. Write on the pages of time, write for the future, write for us.
Stand up, my child. The future will, surely, be yours shall you embrace your present. Ripple by ripple shall you create till, one day, the advent of the surge.
The Book Of Life 