The man with gold lead in his pencil couldn’t write!
He tried a gold paperweight on his desk but still the words would not come.
A gold-tin he purchased containing gems and jewels and scattered them did all around his desk in the hope of inspiring him with beauty.
A name, a game, insane.
He began scribbling with a jewel , a pointed diamond and into his desk scratched his name. He tried other jewels in the same way and gave them to the mice if they were no good for writing with wrapped in hunks of cheese from the kitchen.
The mice ran this way and that with the pieces and then he thought I am better at writing now. I will try my gold pencil again.
Unsurprisingly it did not work again this time either.
So the man went out and purchased an army of magnetically trained worker ants. A million to a colony. Then under his desk, he worked with magnets making the ants move as he did around the desk in the shape of letters. He spelled his name. The ants were up his nose in his hair and eyes and he felt like he was going insane. Until he thought there’s an easier way than this! I’ll try my gold pencil again.
But unsurprisingly it did not work.
He went full out trying all sorts of ways trying to make a mark with his golden pencil. Hitting it , bashing it with a hammer, using it as a chisel, a hole punch until crying he said. I can take no more!
He put down his pencil and cried himself to sleep…
TWO years later the man had written a novel with his golden pencil! Remember when before he couldn’t even write his own name. How did he do it?
Image Credit: http://enju-chan.deviantart.com/art/A-promise-under-the-Moon-136327869
Word,words,words,words,words, cannot in my humble unskilled hands do justice to the vision I see before me. I don’t know whether to kiss your hand or grovel meekly at your feet. I don’t know if your smile is real or faked, or why your eyes are straight, as your hair not curly but smooth and shiny, and your cheeks that sit upon bones so high are a pleasure for me just to gaze upon. Beauty. So fair. So meek. So mild. So full of life. I cannot help myself as my words erupt out of this vision spilling like seeds from my child’s hand. Oh! beauty hold my gaze and speak words but softly so that you will not break my wounded heart again! Tell me I was wrong to trust my sanity in so much vanity and to look inside where the dove of your heart flutters gently. Beauty. Hold my hand to your breast and let it there until I can feel the beat of your heart with my hand. Joyous the moment will be when love erupting from within me will know a love is real and present and like looking in a mirror and seeing you smiling back at me I pray for many more such days. Give me a chance of your friendship darling beauty. So wise and caring your face to spare me my shame at not knowing but already loving thee. In your smile, I see no fear.But you are only 18.In my love for you I fear for me.What fate will you choose? Evil or good. Choose wisely. If I had my way I would lock you away and protect you but No My heart deceives me. I am betrayed by my love for thee! Now hear this What is life if not lived wholly? especially when equipped so beautifully.
Remember that a hopeless man will still cry ‘For Valor! For Love! For Honour and for Freedom!’and when your head ignores but your heart answers the call it will be time and only then.:-) It is only me saying what I hold true and dearest. How could I sink so low? Blessings. Fear me not Fear not man nor woman. Be brave, be strong, be open.And let God alone be the judge of you. And thank you for paying attention to an older man.
It’s a riki-tiki-tavi, excremental, supplemental, tablet.
It’s in your face, totally out of place beauty.
What is its nature? We don’t know. It doesn’t think.
Ed.It’s in the eye of the beholder.
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