I was poor. Aside from a few inclinations towards my true nature, the only other thing that I owned was the state enforced knowledge fed to us from an early age. I was almost out of money, so one day I set out to sell whatever little knowledge I could to at least earn another day.

      On my way to the market I bumped into an elderly shaman. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, dressed enigmatically in something like a brocade tang suit of purple and gold. The shaman offered to exchange my rations of knowledge for three magic words. Nothing left to lose, right? So I decided to take his magic words; KNOWLEDGE-IS-POWER.

      Later when I arrived home I thought hard about what the shaman had given to me, but still couldn't see any glimpse of how those words could be magic. So I discarded them, blindly throwing them out of the window, not knowing that the garden soil where they would land was immaculately tilth as if waiting to be cultivated.

      Overnight while I slept, the magic seeds had planted, nurtured, and sprouted into an enormous bookstalk, piercing the sky and reaching up far beyond the clouds. When I awoke, excitement flooded my body; curiosity struck my mind. I read my way to the top and found everlasting freedom in the heavens. Among the heavens, I hadn't just earnt a day, I had earnt the wealth of a whole lifetime.