Measure of a Messenger- Misplaced Preface
As I await
My chance to speak
Words buzz in my brain
Ineloquent and inadequate
Only movement calms me
So I pace
Boots bereft of tread
Gravel ground to dust
Until a gaze stills me
I stare back
A challenge
No less powerful for its silence
’It’s a silly mantra
What you wrote’
he says and steps closer
‘One person can always make a difference’
My eyes remain on him
Note the leaden texture of his clothing
The material called Adapt
Worn by the Talented and free
The insignia at his throat
Is a facsimile of a snowflake
As he moves
His scarf waves
It tells me what he is
It gives me my response
’A Messenger always speaks the truth
Is that also a silly mantra?
For I fully believe in both’
He flinches
I turn, step incomplete
When his voice seizes me
’A Messenger cannot be measured
By truth he does not know
Only by the sincerity
He carries within himself
You are a collector of memories
A teller of tales?’
I nod
‘Then here is one you should know.’
—The One They Misplaced