I'm at the lowest point in my life, and I've decided to turn to the written word instead of earthly pleasures. I made the greatest prose of my life earlier this week, and it awakened something in me...
Newfag to all this but I know I show potential.
Who are some authors and poets who are wise and can guide me into light? anons...I'm so tired already and I got so much more journey ahead of me. I've always been someone that sees the world in emotion, but I cannot navigate. Complete beginner here.
I need a wise poet at my side who will dispel my doubts and bring me to the light.
Books are good too, I just need to read the pain away.

Sit beside a riverbank and smoke gently and read Siddharta and read Suttree and watch the water twirl and the smoke too and the light as it breaks and scatters and you'll be alright for a little while.

>>24548840
And wake with vigilance and write your dreams and mix your wine with water.

>>24548803 (OP)
Bashō always cheers me up. He's a good read if you don't mind rapidly switching between prose and poety.
>Sleeping overnight at Toima, where the long swampish river came to an end at last, I arrived at Hiraizumi after wandering some twenty miles in two days.
>It is here that the glory of three generations of the Fujiwara family passed away like a snatch of empty dream. The ruins of the main gate greeted my eyes a mile before I came upon Lord Hidehira's mansion, which had been utterly reduced to rice-paddies. Mount Kinkei alone retained its original shape. As I climbed the foothills called Takadate, where lord Yoshitsune met his death, I saw the River Kitakami running through the plains of Nambu in its full force, and its tributary, Koromogawa, winding along the site of the Izumi-ga-shiro castle. And pouring in to the big river directly below my eyes. The ruined house of Lord Yasuhira was located to the north of the barrier-gate of Koromo-ga-seki, thus blocking the entrance of the Nambu area and forming a protection against barbarous intruders from the north. Indeed, many a feat of chivalrous valour was repeated here during the short span of three generations, but both the actors and the deeds have long been dead and passed in to oblivion.
>When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive. I sat down on my hat and wept bitterly till I almost forgot time.

>A thicket of summer grass
>is all that remains
>of the dreams and ambitions
>of ancient warriors.

>>24548879
I'll check him out.
I wish I had this much confidence in my words, something is blocking me from "fully sending," my descriptions, like I feel like people won't connect with the words like I do. I want to have faith they do though.

>>24548803 (OP)
Those three little magical words: "I've hyperdosed paracetamol."