Witness the fountain pen. Elegant in design, functional in performance. A precision tool when paired with fine writing paper. Why is it that, in the hand of one person, this pen is the radix of an all but illegible chicken scratch while in the hand of another it is a tool for creating exquisite Beauty? The pen is still the pen, the paper, too, remains itself. What, then, is the difference? Is it in the skill? Is it in the vision? Is it in the ability to execute?
And what shall we make of words that, though less than pleasing to the eye, are capable still of touching the soul? To further confound and confuse, consider when the words dance with calligraphic rhythm in appearance yet cut deep and painful swaths as they go, at once agreeable to behold but bruising to the heart. The presentation can be beautiful but the content can be laced with the poison of spite.
Beauty knows many levels and subtleties, as does pain. There is far more here than the obvious.
You are the pen, your Life is the paper. What will you write?…
©Billy Red Horse