The Storyteller - The Seller of Poetry

There was a man who had decided to sell poetry for survive in a world where people have beenworking with numbers and personal achievements to ensure no pain in their meaningless lives. He knew that poetry was a raw material and therefore he believed that his words would

contribute to get better human interpersonal relationships. For him the real world did not offer thenecessary freedom of spirit to achieve the supreme happiness. Then there would be a progressivedemand for his services when money was no longer the only source of pleasure to satisfy theconcerns of the modern life. 

So he joined his best writings and gone to the street because he wanted tell the people about the benefits of poetry for everyone who learned to hear the voice of his own heart and understand that feelings are larger than whises. He was standing on a corner where there was a large influx of people and shouted: "Who wants to buy poetry? Wake up to the true meaning of life! Nothing compares to the pleasure to elevate your thinking and make the world a better place to live". Passerby were looking at him very suspiciously wondering that he was one more crazy guy lost in the big city. Everyone watched him but no one bough anything. He waited for more than three weeks and when he was tired of crying he gave up the idea of selling poetry and came back home.

The next day someone knocked on his door and asked why he was selling poetry. He explained his reasons but the stranger told him he could not sell something that did not belong to him. "How so? - He said.  The Stranger complemented: "Listen! thoughts can be compared to a river of flowing waters. Nobody knows where they come from or where they go. Its purpose is to serve all who need it to live. Soon you cannot sell something you got free". The Seller did not understand what was happen. "Please, tell me. who are you?" - the Seller asked. "I am the man who made the rivers" - the stranger said while the Seller saw him disappearing on the streets of the big city. Have you ever seen any poetry somewhere in the world?