The pen is an instrument of power. It can both build and break relationships. It can foster peace or incite war. A gentle soul may use it to write sonnets and love songs while a different soul may use it to scoff at and ridicule such things.
In the hands of a child the pen is a conduit for learning. As she graduates from crayons to pencils and then to her first pen her eyes are wide and proud. A young boy sticks out his tongue from the side of his mouth as he fervently concentrates on forming the perfect cursive ‘a’.
Their pens will accompany these young ones on their journeys through school and beyond. They may record their travels across the globe in intricate detail or simply add to the excitement of signing on the dotted line for their first car.
With a pen one can make people laugh, cry, love and hate. A pen enables communication when speaking the words is too much to bear. It is food for the soul and stimulation for the mind. It nurtures creativity and gives voice to the silent.
A writer with a pen holds the universe in her hand. An artist commands the images in his mind onto paper and they obey. The works of a pen traverse oceans and stars. They span centuries, cradling information of lifetimes past and present.
In a world where the nature of man can be seen at its worst, where reason is replaced by barbarism, the pen has a part to play. With a line, with a word, with an illustration, with a shadow it can shine a light on the darkness of fools. It can publish the corruption of a heart laced with lies.
And when barbarism seeks to silence with its weapons of death the pen will rise to write, to draw, to inspire, and it will win.
Je suis
Charlie.
