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The Legend

The Poet

Lavender and Key Lime soap

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Once upon a time, a lover of literature who scribbled poems night and day dreamed of achieving the fame of Verlaine, Rimbaud or Shakespeare. In search of sad and dramatic stories, he even went so far as to sabotage his own relationships for material for his poetry. But despite his best efforts, he was unable to produce a single text that satisfied him.

So he began reading at all hours of day and night, devouring one poetry collection after another. “I will find inspiration through reading,” he kept telling himself. But despite his discipline, the writer’s block continued. The more he persisted, the more he became isolated, and the more he became irritated with the world. He despaired of people missing the most basic culture and raged against the bizarre people who preferred to cultivate their bodies over their minds. He lost his appetite and sleep over it. Increasingly anxious with his thoughts disrupted by horrible obsessions about the fate of humanity, he scribbled down lines whenever and wherever the urge struck.

One morning, after sleeping his usual one or two hours, he decided enough was enough. He went to see the village druid, determined to put an end to his all-consuming obsessions. Quickly understanding that the person before him was tortured by the beginnings of neurosis, he recommended a tonic and soothing combination of lavender and lime essential oils.

The Poet followed his prescription to the letter, making liberal use of the oils. Slowly, he felt something he had not felt for a long time – calm, and the stirrings of serenity. He came to realize that reading other writers made it impossible to hear his own voice. So he stopped reading, deciding to live life instead. Opening his eyes to his surroundings, he fell in love, travelled, took long forest walks, contemplated the changing seasons and observed nature down to its tiniest details. This led to such a passion for horticulture that he felt compelled to record his invaluable observations. His work gradually grew into an essential basic reference for budding horticulturists – and poetry lovers.

Though his volume was widely praised, he was indifferent to the fame it procured, for he had finally found happiness.

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