The Fount of Pen

The discipline one carries out

Begins far from picking it up

It commences not in a particular moment,

Not in one writing’s saga

But it has always started

In the unfolding of one’s life.

It is not a stride to take it.

It finds its place

in toil, in hard work

That is the lot

Of whoever wants to be a writer.

One says it right

When s/he believes that life and pen

are like conjoined twins.

They are never separated

For putting them into asunder

Means not totally destruction

But spoilage

Writing and living the words

There is an invisible line

Connecting the two

Finding beauty in one’s words

Can be found not farfetched

But by the journey inwards

And then outwards – with works.

The life of the words has always begun.

It has been always there

since gestation

Together with life, serving,

The fount of one’s pen.


Written on 10 March 2015 in Rome

Photo by Pixabay

7 thoughts on “The Fount of Pen

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