You welcome me for the messages I carry, but do not understand my language.
If you did, you would have known that I’m not a messenger. I’m a soul, I’m a living being as bright and fair as any other that inhabit the world. The color I’m blessed with blocks your limited vision.
I was shoo-ed away from homes, farms – everywhere where humans resided. You erected those funny shapes called a scarecrow, and believed that I’m unable to see through the disguise.
A kind soul amongst you wrote this fable depicting me as a messenger of whatever you cherish or fear. Your emotions drive you, when you offer me food, or allow me to perch on your balcony or fence.
You are unable to see through my disguise, and I smile in celebration.
The scare-human is a persona that succeeded in its mission.