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The Messenger

 What messenger's worth more than his message?
Through starry bursting embers he must ride,
Blood streams shall evermore stain his passage,
And doves' tears cannot ebb the crimson tide.
He must reach his mark, but as mark be missed,
His demised fall does cost more than his own,
The messenger holds fates within his fist,
Heralds deliverance soon to be shown.
As messengers we must ride through life's war,
With cuts faded into scars through healing,
And though the eternal journey may be far,
In liberating our worth's revealing.
Do not withhold your message from the world,
Our value lies in what we will unfold.

« Last modified: January 26, 2002 »