The pen, they say, is mightier than the sword; yet in its appearance, the eye only sees innocence. Lying long and thin on a table, it quietly waits for the hand that would wield it. Its sleek design gives it the elegance of jewelry, but in its purpose lays the power of a ruler; loaded with potential words that endure forever. Its modest tip points down to its humble subject, the paper, as it receives the directives of its lord. Gently and quietly, it proclaims words powerful enough to build and tear down as the stain of its blood testifies to generations unborn its command and immortality.
The light of day reveals its power, and the glow of sunset demystifies its purpose. The bleeding of its hallow tip causes some to rejoice, and others shed tears of sorrow. It restores, and it deprives; it blesses and it curses – who can understand? The eyes of many stay glazed to its words – others grope because of incomprehension. The mild smell of its thick ink carries more savor than the most garnished pot. It is a tool like none other, the only of its kind.
From age to age, its appearance and design changes, but its potency and purpose remain unfailing – as though in the crystal of ages exhibited in the museum of time. Its feel in the hand gives a voice to the speechless – words spoken in silence, yet undeniably loud. Its glistening body is an irresistible temptation to touch even for the simple minded. The feel of it tickles the uneducated and makes them pose in pretentious success. Its fluid inscriptions ensures the future, and there is no history without its gore. Its touch preserves the knowledge of the world. It gives warmth to all that cuddles its slender and curvy figure, and caressing it arouses even the dumbest ideas; such a mystical being that causes the hand and arm to tingle and tango down a blank sheet of paper. It gives warmth to the palm in a way that only its other kind can. Its beauty is flawless. Its protective cap locks potential experiences that elude even the finest memory.
The pen is brilliant in its function and stands out as the beacon of intellect. The pen is mighty in a unique way. Although the sword may boast of its blade, just how often does that mighty blade depend upon the signature of the pen? Furthermore, can one ever wonder how many have fallen by the stroke of a pen? One can only now begin to figure the statement, “the pen is mightier than the sword”.
The light of day reveals its power, and the glow of sunset demystifies its purpose. The bleeding of its hallow tip causes some to rejoice, and others shed tears of sorrow. It restores, and it deprives; it blesses and it curses – who can understand? The eyes of many stay glazed to its words – others grope because of incomprehension. The mild smell of its thick ink carries more savor than the most garnished pot. It is a tool like none other, the only of its kind.
From age to age, its appearance and design changes, but its potency and purpose remain unfailing – as though in the crystal of ages exhibited in the museum of time. Its feel in the hand gives a voice to the speechless – words spoken in silence, yet undeniably loud. Its glistening body is an irresistible temptation to touch even for the simple minded. The feel of it tickles the uneducated and makes them pose in pretentious success. Its fluid inscriptions ensures the future, and there is no history without its gore. Its touch preserves the knowledge of the world. It gives warmth to all that cuddles its slender and curvy figure, and caressing it arouses even the dumbest ideas; such a mystical being that causes the hand and arm to tingle and tango down a blank sheet of paper. It gives warmth to the palm in a way that only its other kind can. Its beauty is flawless. Its protective cap locks potential experiences that elude even the finest memory.
The pen is brilliant in its function and stands out as the beacon of intellect. The pen is mighty in a unique way. Although the sword may boast of its blade, just how often does that mighty blade depend upon the signature of the pen? Furthermore, can one ever wonder how many have fallen by the stroke of a pen? One can only now begin to figure the statement, “the pen is mightier than the sword”.
