the message is divine they say
the messenger is not
so often when the news is bad
the harbinger is shot
the message stays as fresh as spring
the bearer starts to rot
the tongue of man at last is stilled
but never is his thought
the message spells out truth they say
the messenger enchants
though footprints in the sand dissolve
we still recall the dance
the wisdom of the sage may fail
his fables turn to rants
but axioms grow twice in size
if given half the chance
the message is the law they say
but not the law of man
for nature is the final judge
and author of the plan
for stars will rule the evening's sky
when mortal's race is ran
though messengers turn into dust
the message never can
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