I am the Printing Press

I AM the printing press, born of mother earth. My heart is of steel, my limbs are of iron, and my fingers of brass.

I SING the songs of the world, the oratorios of history, the symphonies of all time.

I AM the voice of today, the herald of tomorrow. I weave into the warp of the past the woof of the future. I tell the stories of peace and war alike.

I MAKE the human heart beat with passion or tenderness. I stir the pulse of nations, and make brave men do braver deeds, and soldiers die.

I INSPIRE the midnight toiler, weary at his loom, to lift his head again and gaze, with fearlessness, into the vast beyond, seeking the consolation of a hope eternal.

WHEN I speak a myriad people listen to my voice. The Anglo-Saxon, the Celt, the Hun, the Slav, the Hindu, all comprehend me.

I AM the tireless clarion of the new. I cry your joys and sorrows every hour. I fill the dullard’s mind with thought uplifting. I am light, knowledge, and power. I epitomize the conquests of mid over matter.

I AM the record of all things mankind has achieved. My offspring comes to you in the candle’s glow, amid the dim lamps of poverty, the splendor of riches; at sunrise, at high noon, and in the waning evening.

I AM the laughter and tears of the world, and I shall never die until all things return to the immutable dust.

I AM the printing press.

~Robert H. Davis

Lovely... it made my heart skipped reading it.. ..^^..