A great deal of darkness is a reason,
Light that is not typically visible,
It signifies scarcity in an attempt;
A dim light appears like a cloth covering the light.
A dim light creates a brief sight limitation for the writer
Restricting vision through the intellect.
And that research paper noted that practice broadens perspectives and fosters innovation.
It is something beneath the lake that was seen
Like a pen resting on a table,
To be a great writer, one must have keen eyesight,
Which can perceive even the substance lying beneath the water,
Yet one thing that hinders is a dim light!
Where rays are blocked from passing through an object.
But the best things is that a research illuminates all images,
And organizes them in a specific sequence,
Like a professional field in the writer's eyes,
A program crafted for guidance
As a code for a magnificent machine.
The poem uses the metaphor of light and darkness to explore the creative process of writing, especially the journey from confusion to clarity through disciplined research.The opening lines – “A great deal of darkness is a reason, / Light that is not typically visible” – shows that every worthwhile piece of writing begins in obscurity.
The writer faces a subject that is not immediately clear; the truth is hidden. This darkness is not emptiness; it is fullness that cannot yet be seen. “Scarcity in an attempt” means the first drafts or initial thoughts feel thin and inadequate because the full light of understanding has not broken through. The “dim light” that “appears like a cloth covering the light” represents partial knowledge, superficial reading, or lazy thinking. It lets the writer see shapes and outlines, but nothing sharply. This half-light “creates a brief sight limitation” and “restricting vision through the intellect,” meaning the mind itself becomes the dirty lens that blurs reality.The poem then shifts to a striking image: “It is something beneath the lake that was seen / Like a pen resting on a table.” Great ideas and profound truths lie submerged, calm and waiting, just below the surface of ordinary awareness – as obvious, in hindsight, as a pen on a desk. Yet most writers miss them because their vision is dim. To be a great writer, “one must have keen eyesight” that can “perceive even the substance lying beneath the water.” This keen eyesight is not physical; it is the penetrating insight that comes from patient, methodical work.The central obstacle remains “a dim light” where “rays are blocked from passing through an object.” Here the object is often the writer’s own ego, preconceptions, or haste – anything that prevents clear light from reaching the subject.The turning point is research. The poem declares: “the research paper noted that practice broadens perspectives and fosters innovation.” Research is the powerful lamp that finally cuts through the dimness. It “illuminates all images / And organizes them in a specific sequence.” Suddenly the murky underwater world becomes a “professional field in the writer’s eyes” – everything is laid out clearly, logically, beautifully ordered.The closing metaphor is modern and revealing: research acts “like a program crafted for guidance / As a code for a magnificent machine.” Just as clean, well-structured code makes a complex machine run perfectly, thorough research provides the invisible architecture that allows a piece of writing to function at its highest level. The scattered fragments of insight, the half-seen shapes beneath the lake, are compiled, debugged, and executed into something magnificent.In essence, the poet says: Great writing is never born from vague inspiration alone. It is engineered. Darkness and dim light are the natural starting points, but only rigorous research – the bright, uncompromising light – transforms confusion into clarity, chaos into precision, and a good idea into a great output.