The Unseen Poet

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He walked with torn dreams on his shoulders,

A poet beneath a merciless sky.

His words were richer than kingdoms,

Yet no one stopped to ask him why.


The merchants traded praise for profit,

The scholars bowed before a name;

Truth stood hungry at their doorstep,

While falsehood dined in halls of fame.


His verses flowed like living rivers,

But the world preferred a gilded lie.

They saw his poverty and weakness,

Not the stars burning in his eye.


A night woman cast aside by society

Found beauty where others found none;

She heard the ache within his silence,

And loved the man he had become.


The preachers spoke of virtue loudly,

The patriots sang their noble song;

Yet behind their masks of honor

Lived the greed they hid so long.


They crowned him only when he vanished,

When death had wrapped him in its light;

For living souls are often ignored,

While ghosts are praised as pure and bright.


But the poet would not sell his conscience,

Nor bend his heart to fashion's call.

He chose the road of truth and hunger,

Rather than wear a golden thrall.


For what is fame without compassion?

What is wealth without a soul?

A world that worships empty shadows

Can never truly become whole.


So honor those who walk beside you,

Before the silence claims their name;

For love, integrity, and kindness

Outshine success and borrowed fame.

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