A wondrous place where ideas are born.
| How desperate are we writers for those tales untold and verses seeking rhymes? At times, we may imagine that all has been told or rhymed or expunged from wonderful imaginations. We all know very well the blank stare at the virgin page. Thumbing through the card index of aging minds, we become further convinced that the vine of fresh thought has been picked bare of its luscious fruit.
But, in the face that subtle panic which may wonder where the next fruitful thought will arise, there may, for many, be an all but undiscovered repository of sensation and splendor. That rarely traveled land is the night. Yes, the night, and what a fertile land it can be.
My writer friends, have you departed from the comfort of houses and company and gone into the night with your urgent inquiries? For reasons that are mysterious, men have always been called to the night. For whatever reasons there may have been, the night has stirred many hearts to wonder and imagine. The glories above have winked as those who have long-held secrets that wait for listening hearts. What tales are held in store for the heart that will immerse itself in the infinite starry night?
So, I will say to you, my friend. Take your dearth to the fulsome night. Ride on a carpet of rich imaginings as the warm glow of windows below whisper their secrets in hushed silence. There for you are stories and rhymes floating like ghosts on the restless night air. Gather up your contrivances, inventions, and envisages, and step into the night