Behold! What a marvelous object!
See what it does so well.
The letters flow together gracefully.
The lines are precise, unmeasured.
The lives of so many are touched by it.
History dares to lean on such an instrument.
Memories can be saved.
Lifetimes can be written.
Lives can be changed in many ways.
But 'tis sad that information drains away,
Like a net trying to catch water.
Only a few drops are absorbed.
What is standing in our way?
Why don't we all become links in the net?
Time wears away our will.
'Tis the weak hand, who is our enemy.
Surely, the strong quilled inherit the Earth,
and its drops of knowledge.
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