This pen cannot write, so you can really see, the tears in this old man’s eyes. Too sad for mere ink, too deep for mere paper. This pen, not as strong as we need.
From this page that I write, I can’t fire a flare. This pen, not that mighty. No fireworks from here.
This needs to shake a whole country. But how with just words? My writings, not strong. This pen, not enough. The steel of the sword, too powerful to fight.
I look at this pen, the tears come once more. What more can I do? This is all that I have. No real talents, no money, no influence or power. This pen cannot trumpet what the world needs to hear. This pen made of plastic, its only sound, a click and a scratch. This pen, no match for the forces we face.
But I must tell the world. I have found the Key. A Key so lost, we didn’t even know it was gone. Can just this flat paper show us the way? It needs brass bands and spotlights, loudspeakers and beacons. Can this pen make you follow this rainbow right here? To find the Key that I’ve found? This Key that’s been lost. It’s been in plain sight. This Key called a “given”. Of course it’s still there, any thought, not required. Don’t need to look closely, don’t need one last look.
Wait!! Stop!! They’re leaving!! They still do not see it! We need “BOOM”, we need “POP”!! We need “sizzle” right now!!
Blast this pen! What good are you, huh? No country shaking, no fireworks, not even a tear. The pen that I hold cannot wake us to see, this Key we need, so desperately.
The Key still lies orphaned, out there in the field. Alone and unnoticed. No throngs to extol it.
All I have, not enough, to bring it to bear. That steel must be hard, as hard as I’d feared.
I’m sorry if this pen, not as strong as it needs. I’m sorry if this pen, not as mighty as hoped.
We need to feel that wet tear. See that rocket’s red glare. Something must shake us, to find this Key that is there.
I hope the pen, stronger, that it’s mightier than steel.