Quote on inspiring and destroy by Robin Sharma

Words can INSPIRE and words can DESTROY.
Choose YOURS well.
ROBIN SHARMA

The Power of Words: A Tale of Creation and Destruction

Introduction

“Words can INSPIRE and words can DESTROY. Choose YOURS well.” — Unknown ¹

In the quaint village of Veritas, nestled amidst rolling hills and whispering forests, lived a young scribe named Elara. Her ink-stained fingers danced across parchment, weaving tales that stirred hearts and ignited minds. Elara believed in the magic of words—their ability to shape destinies, mend broken souls, or unravel the fabric of existence itself.

The Whispering Grove

Elara’s favorite retreat was the Whispering Grove, an ancient stand of oak trees where sunlight filtered through emerald leaves. Here, she penned verses that echoed across generations. One dew-kissed morning, as she sat beneath the oldest oak, a stranger appeared—a man with eyes like forgotten constellations. His name was Silvanus, and he carried secrets etched in starlight.

The Gift of Words

Silvanus spoke of a celestial library hidden beyond the veil of reality. Its shelves held books inscribed with cosmic ink—the very essence of creation. Each word birthed galaxies, spun nebulae, or shattered planets. Silvanus offered Elara a choice: to wield words of inspiration or destruction. She hesitated, torn between light and shadow.

The Quill of Balance

Silvanus gifted Elara a quill—an ethereal instrument that absorbed her intentions. When dipped in ink, it channeled her emotions into words. Elara’s heart raced as she wrote. Her first creation: “Hope.” The Whispering Grove shimmered, petals unfurling on dormant flowers. But darkness loomed—the quill’s other edge craved release.

The Temptation

Elara’s fame spread. Her poems healed broken hearts, ignited revolutions, and mended rifts between warring clans. Yet, whispers reached her—the quill’s shadow side whispered darker verses. Kings fell, empires crumbled, and love turned to ash. Elara wrestled with her gift. Could she choose wisely, as the quote dictated?

The Final Battle

Silvanus returned, eyes weary from eons. “Elara,” he said, “your words ripple through existence. Balance falters.” Elara gazed at her quill—the cosmic scales teetering. She wrote: “Forgiveness.” The Whispering Grove wept, roots embracing forgotten enemies. Silvanus nodded. “Now, the final word.” Elara hesitated, then inscribed: “Silence.”