Two fellows of different paths happened to cross one day.
One held a sword, and the other a pen.
Being of good nature, they both sat beside their paths,
And together ate a lunch of good food and better conversation.
With their lunch, they had a fine brandy, the likes of which
Puts good-natured men into having good-natured competitions.
Said the swordsman to the pen-master, "A man such as yourself,
Shouldn't be carrying that scrawny pen. It does no damage and has
No value in a fight to the death."
The pen-master, having heard such things before, merely brushed the
Swordsman's words to one side, in favor of drawing the man a picture.
The swordsman marveled at the pen-master's talent, "Why, you must be
An artist of some kind."
The pen-master chuckled, "Then you must know,
That my pen is mightier than your sword."
The swordsman laughed at the words spoken to him, "I do not see what
You could possibly mean."
The pen-master, standing from his lunch with the swordsman, held his pen
Out before him, like a sword.
"In your path, my good man," The pen-master started his speech,
"You use your sword to defend the innocent, and punish the wicked."
"This is true," The swordsman agreed.
"It is likewise honest to say," The pen-master continued, "That your sword does nothing,
But destroy, though its intentions be the purest and true."
The swordsman lamented, "I have been noticing such a thing, as of late;
And your words cut to my quick, so I know that you speak the truth."
The pen-master continued, "Your sword can grow heavy; this pen does as well.
Though it is not from destroying," The pen twirled in his hands, "It is from creating."
"My words, though made of air, can be written down, my friend,
And though so many years may pass, I can look back to see what I've written there.
While your sword drips blood, my pen drips ink, and through that ink, I can create,
Oh, the most magnificent things!
I could write you a story, of the dragon you last vanquished. I could make such
A story, so you can know his origin, courage and fears.
I could spin you a rhyme, from this pen-like-easel; the words inside,
Why, I can make your heart sing or cry.
Or perhaps you'd like me to write a song, with lyrics telling of your greatest deeds!
With this pen, I can command an orchestra, with a mere stroke and a dot.
I can build a great castle, and then tear it down on the same page."
The swordsman marveled at the power, contained in such a small vessel.
"Say, perhaps, my good man
You might let me have a swing?"
The pen-master smiled and gave the swordsman the pen.
"You may keep it, my friend." The pen-master said with a smile.
"You'd trust me with such power?" The swordsman's mouth fell in shock.
"I would and I will," The pen-master chuckled, "To trade creation for destruction;
That is my way, and my path."
So the pen-master left the swordsman, to continue on the path he tread.
The swordsman watched his friend go, before unsheathing his sword
And burying the tip into the ground.
"Here I lay down my sword," the swordsman vowed, "And the path that I walked, well
It's no longer pointing in the direction I once thought."
So the swordsman went his way, his path following one many cannot or will not follow.
And that day he learned that, indeed:
The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.