The Pen Is a Mighty Sword

Fear. A pencil in my hand. Fear. It’s a pointy thing, a pencil. At any moment it’ll slash my other wrist and slice my fingers. Terror. Why am I wielding such a dangerous weapon? Don’t they forbid these things? Some tyrants do, indeed. I feel responsible. There’s a whole box of them, and I could just use them anytime. Ha! Ha! Ha! Evil laughter! The universe is right here for me to create and destroy at will. I’ll show you how.

A line on a piece of paper. The horizon. Your name on the line. Now you own this desert. I’ll give you this window to a desert where your name rises like the sun. Your name is daylight, didn’t you know? Everything that’s touched by your name is your kingdom. Everything that’s touched by your name is my world.

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