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Poem

Is there a purpose for struggling,
enduring trails that could be been avoided?
What motivates an individual to surpass
any conceivable limit to build a concept?

A normal person has less cares than a genius;
no passion for art or interest in science,
so aimless is that existence
resembling a shadow passing. 

A philosopher once said that,
" All legends are made by dreams,
in which their heroes are immortalized,
but their inner voices are as faint 
and distant as raging waterfalls
descending steeply to splash in rivers below;
and to hear them, you must get closer enough,
until their loud sound can deafen 
the ears and astonish the eyes. "
Oh, I have contemplated them in sheer surprise!

Nobody ever sees a thinker's curved back
laying on the water-splashed, cracked rock;
if civilization has betrayed his idealistic thoughts,
accusing him of insanity and prejudice:
how can dark minds be lucid enough to discern
what he sees in images of true perfection?
And he will be another outcast detested by society
for having demonstrated a superior mentality?

Go to the highest hill, amid the rugged mountains 
and find him in the same spot meditating
over a glorious view that only the believers admire;
go and comfort him with a friendly hand-shake,
and amply confirm that his action wasn't a mistake,
but a challenge and a cause worth-taking.
And his testimony, that all legends are made by dreams,
is found in his prophetic and exquisite writings.

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