Ink and Graphite

Our souls move through this world trailing indelible ink. As ink flows through our hands, the marks linger. Though in time they may fade, always they endure. Errors can be addressed only by ingenuity and creativity, redeeming the first action with new action.

Our minds, however, carry only graphite. Marks made by our minds disappear the moment we decide. Despite our suspicions, our souls and hands remain loyal, yet we mark their work with the ugliest powders of thought, indicating—as if such things could happen—that this or that should be changed.

We long to turn back the hands of time, sweep away the accidentals, scour away all sign of the fits and starts. Finally, realizing that no mark can be erased, we rub away all mentions of regret. In their place—by magic, for what could be more magical?—we place the indications of where to make new marks. The chaos and turmoil of the creative process blooms. The sterile design we would have made pales beside the vibrant forest of serendipity that springs forth from the seeds we called error.