i was strolling home one day from an evening jog, gyrating to the music from my mp3. it was a usual route back home which is anything but fancy. yet, this walk home took a turn for the magical when i witnessed a falling leaf. the simple act of the leaf's swaying descent captured me.

i have always found those poets who talk about minute little things like a crying baby, a couple fishing by the river or a stupid pen (think seamus heaney) rather amusing and wonder why they talk about these things to torture my soul 450years later. yes, literature students think these are lame too.

but at that very moment when the leaf descended, swishing and rhythm-coordinated, my heart was suddenly seized with poetic exclamations and a surge of fervour. i could finally understand what the irritating authors, from jeanette winterson to john banville meant when they said they were "moved". i was, at that moment, moved by the falling leaf too.

well, that does not put me in the league of those great poets. probably, even further from them. right after that precious moment, i continued my goofy walk, gyrating and rocking the upbeat song on my mp3, completely unchanged from before. but one thing's for sure, that moment assured me of the literary running deep in my blood- and that itself, puts me in the same league as any other legendary literary heroes of all time. this is in fact, spoken on behalf of all passionate literature students. or really, just anybody who loves the literary.

it really is courage to pursue what you love even if it bodes a tumultuous future.