The pen is poised above the virgin leaf of paper — I stare at the tip and wonder what wonders it is about to unleash. Will these be the opening lines of an epic poem of ancient clashes between bitter enemies? Is this to be the origin story of a superhero whose exploits will resonate for generations, mentioned in the same breath as Sherlock Holmes and Tarzan and Superman and Spider-Man? Does this pen hold the love story that will touch hearts for all time?
Most likely, I suppose, I will scratch out some musing that will be digested and forgotten by day’s end. But this moment — pen poised over the white blank sheet — is so full of possibilities that my heart leaps in anticipation. In this moment anything is possible — and in that moment I realize that every moment has the same potential.
And so I touch the paper with my pen, and it all begins.
