Writers are prophets.
They are here with a message to convey. They are on a mission to give life to those emotions which are there, but invisible.
Writers write, because they have to convey those messages which are embedded onto them.
Writers write, because they want to express, because they have got words. Writers write, because they know that they can give life to the piece of paper, lying as if dead on the table. Writers write, because they know that their pen is filled with life called: ink.
Writers write, because they want to heal. Writers are healers, aren’t they? The words they have got are dressed up as healers. When they embrace a wound, they heal it, and heal it forever. Isn’t there too much of pain in this world, what if writers are doing their bit to eliminate some pains, somewhere, from someone’s soul? What if people are relieved of their pain, when these prophets write?
Writers dive deep and express those things that are beyond expression. Those beyond expression things are full of awe, and when they are dressed up in words, and are read, they elevate readers, to something unknown and strange. The readers do find themselves deep within those lines; much in-between the lines
Writers write, because they love to. They love to play with words. They love to create marvels out of 26 letters and a handful of punctuation marks.
Writers write to exaggerate: a positive exaggeration! They stress on a particular things, a miniscule thing, and magnify it. They turn a simple feeling or an emotion into a colossal entity. This magnifying, and this exaggeration, compels a reader to understand such small things in completely different way. A way where: nothing is unimportant and nothing is miniscule. Writers write to emphasize.
Writers write to praise; to praise beauty (there can be many other things.) They write to make readers smell a fragrance that was refreshed the air, a decade ago. They write to make readers feel a tender thing that existed a century ago. They write to make readers see a fairy that never existed. Writer, the magicians!
Writers write to be immortal. They say: if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. Writers write to turn themselves and those whom they love, immortals. Writers write because they fear death.
A writer in love is a catastrophe. A writer in love expresses a lot, but with a tinge of love. He will praise the beauty of sky, and will link it with the face of his beloved, because he can see nothing more. A star finds a place on the face of his beloved. A moon too can be adjusted there. Twinkling of starts finds a comparison with the blinking of her eyes, and lots more. For him, she walks like a fairy. Well, he is a writer, he can do anything. And, a writer in love is surely a catastrophe. For him, there is nothing but her. No solar system, but her. No Moon, but her. No Stars, but her. No oxygen, but her. No him, but her. A pure catastrophe!
Writers write to create: a moon on earth (on her face, or her face) a flower, her lips. Writers create, and they can create anything.
Writers write to unveil the unseen; to uncover the beauty. They write to let the readers fly with their own set of imaginations.
Writers write to bestow their readers with a flight to the wondrous lands.
Writers write to be read as well! We shouldn’t miss that point, should we?