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My dear reader, dear friend, Miss you not the time – the golden era – where poets were kings? Miss you not the time where words could paint pictures that even blind souls could see? Miss you not the time where genuine passion for storytelling was looked upon with eyes of admiration?
– Even philosophers have glorified poetry as a sign of Gods existence; Aristotle even wrote an entire book about poetry.

My beloved girlfriend and I have spent countless of sleepless nights talking about ‘the golden era’, as I call it; Actually, to be more precise: She has spent countless of sleepless nights listening to my craving; to my humble desire; my humble wish of a life in ‘the golden era’. 
Even though she smiles whenever I am to speak about it, she knows of the depth of my craving; she knows of the passion that I have for the fathers of literature, and she knows how much I wish that I had been given the chance to become one of them. – Surely we have amazing writers – writers whose hearts still beat as I write this post, but still, I dare claim that none of them – nor us, the upcoming writers – will ever come close to the level of the fathers of literature. We can only hang on the vague hope of making them proud with the stories we write; the worlds we create; our own blood, which we use as ink. 

So, what is ‘the golden era’? Surely, if you are a true student of literature, your immediate answer will be: mid 1500’s – early 1600. Why? Might one wonder. – Well, because the great William Shakespeare – the man who wrote Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, etc., the man whom we all have sought when the mysteries of love knocked on our door, the man who defined true love and beauty – lived in that period. But as shocking as it might sound, dear reader, that’s not the period I have in mind, no. The period I have in mind is: the 1800’s.
This was the time where Edgar Allan Poe, Leo Tolstoy, Oscar Wilde, Charles Dickens, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Ernest Hemingway, Scot Fitzgerald and many other revolutionary writers were born; they were given life – a life with a purpose that would ultimately change the way we would perceive the world. This is the golden era (or perhaps one of the golden era’s, since there has been a few of them in the past) of poetry, literature and passion. 

I personally – being a writer – try to study all the greats for an important reason: I’m simply scared of writing – even typing down a single word, if not with passion, gentleness, extreme respect, because who are we to ruin the craft – the art – that these fathers dedicated their entire lives to perfecting. How often have tears run down your smiling face while reading? – and how often were these books written centuries ago? Books – just like art – are a matter of taste, I agree, dear reader, but let us not deny the frightening fact: We’re not breathing poetry; we’re not eating passion; we’re not bleeding ink. The breed of true poets, writers, storytellers are slowly dying out; the only ones who can save the craft are you and I, so please, dear reader, let’s not fail but prosper! Let’s not forget the golden era(‘s) but instead remember it/them proudly – lets study it/them, so that we can carry on the legacy of Hemingway, Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Poe, Wilde, and maybe, dear friend, maybe one day in the unknown future, one might look upon us with the eyes of admiration and concede us the glory and welcome us in one’s heart; one might even remember us as fathers of a new ‘golden era’, thus that’s not the aim of a true poet.

‘The aim of a true poet is to make the blind see.’
– Arman Grigorian.