The Unseen Me: A Portrait in Verse

The Unseen Me: A Portrait in Verse

I am not the shade of skin I wear,
Nor the silver in my autumn hair.
I am not the frame that time has bent,
But dreams I’ve chased and days well spent.

I am the hush of morning dew,
The echo of a thought once true.
A fading hymn at vesper’s call,
A silent oath, a whispered sprawl.

I’ve taught beneath a banyan wide,
With chalk in hand and heart in stride.
In dusty rooms where futures bloom,
I planted hope and swept out gloom.

I’ve watched the sun through glass panes fall,
While poems rose on classroom wall.
My voice has held both truth and tears,
Warmed by youth, and cooled by years.

You cannot see the scars I hide,
But feel them in the words I bide.
From childhood lanes to starlit bends,
I’ve walked alone and called them friends.

I am the rain that kissed dry land,
The tremble of a reaching hand.
The laughter shared on twilight’s edge,
A prayer once carved on window ledge.

A book once lost and found again,
With notes in margins inked by pain.
A letter never sent nor read,
But cherished still for what it said.

I’m pages dog-eared, worn but wise,
A pilgrim under changing skies.
I’ve searched for light in darkest fears,
And learnt the weight of silent years.

I’m music played on rusted strings,
Yet still it soars, yet still it sings.
The scent of old forgotten tunes,
The dance of dusk beneath full moons.

Though you may not behold my face,
You’ll find me in a quiet place —
Where thoughts are soft and spirits true,
And silence paints what sight can’t view.

For I am not a man you see,
But soul and story — endlessly.
So feel the breeze, not where I stand,
But who I’ve been, and what I am.

“Some people are unseen, not because they hide —
but because they dwell where depth resides.”