She said, ‘I’m a Messenger
Of the cosmic kind.”
The Skeptic assumed
She was out of her mind.

Arrogant, too,
And annoying as hell,
Saying she’d come 
With a message to tell.

Leery of phonies,
Honest to the bone,
The Skeptic trusted
Tests and tests alone.

So, with truth his objective,
He locked her in a cave,
With lab apparatus
To see how she’d behave.

His intention, to prove,
From her actions and words,
Her claim no more real
Than flying Elephant Birds.

He got right to work
In his gloves and lab coat,
Expecting to soon
Have the data to gloat.

He began with commands
In a growl worse than gruff,
And when she flinched, screamed,
“Messengers would be tough!”

He singed every hair
That grew on her head
And each time she spoke,
Ridiculed all she said.

He forced her to sleep
On a mattress of straw,
And scrub every rock
On the cave’s filthy floor.

He refused her fresh water
When she asked for a bath,
And scoffed when she tried
To learn physics and math.

He refused her a light
So that she could read,
And bossed her around
Like a bully on speed.

When her birthday came,
All he gave her was grief.
He tried robbing her faith
Like a nasty old thief.

But whenever he checked
His Truth-Or-Fiction-O-Graph,
He didn’t know whether
To cry or to laugh.

For it clearly revealed
She was being sincere.
She’d come with a message
For all who could hear.

Refusing to think
He might not be right,
He slept not a wink,
Running tests day and night.

“Skeptics seek truth,”
He said time and again,
“And until you confess,
You’re condemned to this pen!”

The more that she swore
She told him no lie,
The more his blood boiled
And his fury ran high.

He demanded she darn
His socks one by one,
Then wash all his briefs,
And he had a ton!

He said she was ugly,
And looked twice her age.
The poems that she wrote
He called, “Turds on a page.”

He belched in her face
Like a sloshed, sloppy lush,
And the curses he barked
Would make boxers blush.

“I’ve brought you a message,”
She continued to say,
“And no graph or chart
Will chase me away,
Nor will I be silenced
By ear plugs and humming.
You’re ready to hear,
The message that’s coming.”

The Skeptic refused
To wave the white flag,
Though his copious notes
Caused his man cave to sag.

He couldn’t accept gurus,
Channels, prophets, all fake!
And messengers from beyond?
Please, give him a break!

*  *  *

But there comes an end
To the worst of things,
And a turn for the best
Was here, too, in the wings.

*  *  *

It happened the night
His captive baked a cake
With countless standard candles
On top for his sake.

Seeing them sparkle,
Supernovae bright,
The Skeptic, glowing
From their light,
Found to his shock,
His mind had a key
And a door to unlock
With a sign, “Open Me.”
On the door’s other side
A strong energy surge
Allowed him to feel
Past and future merge.

He saw himself as a child
Gazing out at the stars,
And children to come
Giggling on planet Mars.

He took his first bite,
And like a fairytale frog,
 Croaked one last croak,
And awoke from a fog.

Released from a life
On false assumptions built,
A brave new world beckoned
As the old one went “tilt.”

And in a voice shaking
With awareness and force,
He whispered, “At last,
My life’s back on course.”

Then he burned all his notes,
Announcing in glee,
 “Nothing’s the way
That it seems to be.”

Gratefully humbled, 
He told his now guest,
“I want to repent.
What must I do next?”

After first wrapping up
Her Earth-centered chores,
The Messenger led the way
To the Great Room outdoors. 

Above both their heads,
Stars whispered, “Shalom,”
Informing all listening
To start heading home.

The Skeptic’s next move
Brought The Messenger joy,
For she watched a man kneel
Where before stood a boy.

And the very next instant,
Two goosy side pokes—
From The Invisible Kahuna
Of Extreme Cosmic Jokes—
Had them turn towards the east,
And what they saw in the sky,
Made them chuckle in synch,
As it went whooshing by.



Though skeptics call them
Flightless and extinct,
This Elephant Bird
With tongue in cheek winked.