By Malcolm Little Black
In vain man tries to fathom,
With the aid of his crown of clay,
The content of the tidings i bring,
And the extent of what is at play.
From the desk of revered science
Came such a sweetened lie;
Beyond certain degrees i’m numbed,
Half truth is worse than half baked pie.
He knows not whence i came
Nor the melody of the symphony i play.
I’m just a herald, a harbinger so to speak,
For the awakening that is here to stay.
The sight of the blind shall i restore.
The flame of sublimity must i fan anew.
Swayed by the Voice of the New Era,
And the rebirth of the Earth long overdue.
I shall hesitate not to shatter
The myth of man’s omnipotence.
From the taste of Wuhan’s perspiration
You can tell i bring refining experience.
A while shall i tarry, then be gone i,
Yet he paid not in full the retributive fees.
Failed by his might and self made gods,
Humility shall finally bend his knees.
