There was a Japanese poet that loved to write haikus. He would write haiku often. it brought him much peace in his life. He had struggled I. life but haiku made him happy.
One day he wrote a haiku after gaining a new notebook. This haiku was about a sunset he had imagined in his mind. It was one of his most vivid haikus.
To his surprise that evening he saw a sunset that looked just like the one in his haiku.
He later the next day wrote a very descriptive collection of haikus about a man who won much money.
Later that day he saw on the news a story about a man who won much money which matched the story in his his haikus perfectly.
After several tests he found out he could write the future through haiku.
He wrote haikus about how he became a famous man with much wealth and married a beautiful woman. Wrote tales that made him seem legendary. It all became true.
this went on for several years but it did not take long for him to realize how bitter he felt. No matter what he wrote about he felt bitter.
He was saddened because he had no adventure in life because every second of his life had been scripted. He was so depressed life seemed as if it was nothing to him. He thought about that compulsively.
"Life is fiction, life is fiction", he would say to himself.
He felt much pain.
He turned to alcohol to try to numb himself. It sent him spiraling into trouble. It got so bad his wife left him, he lost all his money, and the media trashed his reputation. The man had nothing.
One morning he woke up looking for booze but found none. He had squandered so much money he couldn't afford another drop. He felt naked without his alcohol.
He raged. He lost control and began to punch the wall. He broke a finger on a stud.
He then was left alone with his thoughts; he wished to himself he had never written haiku.
He wanted a solution to his problem and had an idea. After dubious consideration, he proceeded to chop his hands clean off his arm so he could no longer write haiku. This was the beginning of his journey for peace.
©realko
R