A Marriage

The joining of two souls. Becoming one flesh. These are the things that mark the sacred union of marriage. Only a few years ago when I was younger than I am now, I experienced such a union. This is the story of the courtship and marriage of pen and pad.

Each lived happily long before they met, for each had many uses before their love existed. They carried on blissfully unaware that they were both grossly incomplete. For you see when one is on their own, they are ignorant to their lack of wholeness. Just as one cannot miss a dessert without experiencing its taste, once cannot see their own state of unfinishedness without finding their other half. So, on they went, each on their separate ways. The pen doing the writing and the pad receiving the writing of others. Neither making a significant impact. Menial were their tasks, mediocre the products, until one day a third party entered into the equation. Me. Yes I am the narrator of this tale but also am I a character. Even more, I am the catalyst! For if not for my inspiration and introduction their love would never have been ignited.

On a day like any other I sat before the familiar pen and the familiar pad and on a whim suggested they dance. Neither had previously considered the possibility but since neither had any reason to object, they obliged me. What happened next was nothing short of breathtaking! They danced ballads, and epics. They danced sonnets and haikus. They danced stories both long and short. They danced romance and thriller and drama. And as the power of their dance continued to grow they fell madly in love.

That very night they discovered their desire for one another and neither could contain themselves. They were consumed by the flames of their longing and though shy at first, adoration for one another broke down the barriers of their insecurity. The wedding followed suit and the exchange of vows was more beautiful than I could endure. All present shed tears because they danced their commitment to one another.

They danced words of undying, unyielding, unrelenting love. The type of love that survives the test of time and temptation. The type of love that heals wounded hearts & makes men fly on wings of self-worth. The type of love that cannot be bought or sold, lost or found, only given and shared.

The honeymoon was long and deep, and years of blissful weddedness followed. The story however isn’t over. Oh no. For you see, once honeymoon is ended and time passes, the vows given during the wedding grow hazy and are forgotten. The fresh memories of passionate love fade and are lost as life continues on.

Within time, pen and pad became estranged. They forgot the reason for their love. They forgot the products of their love. The flame was quickly going out. They both returned to the menial tasks of their previous lives. Tasks with no beauty or magic. I didn’t know how to help, nor was I aware that help was needed. You see, inspiration, my lover, had eluded me some time prior. But as inspiration and I longed for that which we’d lost we were reunited, and sought to do the same for our dear friends, pen & pad.

We forced them to join us. The music began to play. They both knew the song, inspiration’s song. They began to remember their first introduction to it and all the beauty which ensued. They gazed longingly at one another and began to dance once more.

This is where the story pauses, not ends, but pauses because their dance is still strengthening. My beloved inspiration has saturated them with his song and they dance on. They dance right this moment to you, their audience. This very story you see is the product of their dance, of their marriage, of their love. The story will continue while we, the components, are present. Inspiration to writer (me), and pen to pad.