A Poet's Scripts

Ode to a Pencil

The long, slender utensil is made of fine wood,

covered in a bright yellow paint.

At one end is a black point, sharp and powerful.

A sword.

A sword, fighting for its life in a battle.

A sword making its mark on the world.

The long wooden utensil takes me on a journey to magical, mysterious lands.

It is a ship capable of exploring the entire face of the Earth, and beyond.

It is an inventor, changing the world with every move.

Millions of life-changing ideas created with this piece of wood.

Sitting in almost every household in the country,

not looking very extravagant.

But in that simple wooden utensil,

in that artist,

in that philosopher,

is a frenetic collection of theories, phrases, symbols.

Theories that can change the world.

Phrases that make someone's day.

Symbols that create magnificent art.

This thin piece of wood is a motivator.

Its radiant color brings joy

and inspiration to all who notice it.

The sharp tip

seems to be begging to be used,

begging to be loved.

The user then has no choice

but to give in to the utensil's pleads,

and pick it up.

The tip lands on the paper,

and then starts to move.

To dance.

Slowly,

but then quicker

and quicker,

words flying from the brain

through the wood

and onto the paper.

Then the tip stops.

The words stop.

Its work is done.

The sword's battle.

The ship's voyage.

The inventor's product.

The artist's masterpiece.

The philosopher's thoughts.

The motivator's encouragement.

The pencil's work.