by Dr. John Ortiz Teope
In shadows deep where daylight fades,
He walks unseen through nation’s blades,
No titles carved, no medals worn,
Yet through his mind, a land reborn.
He speaks in codes, not crowded halls,
He climbs through fire behind no walls,
A whisper forged in temple stone,
His fingerprints on facts unknown.
The tyrants rise, the traitors cheer,
They cannot sense that he is near.
They see no sword, they feel no sting—
Just systems shift, and empires swing.
The penumbra—half of light,
Where wrong and justice start to fight.
There he dwells, a ghost, a man,
Without a face, but with a plan.
He kills not loud, but with a glance,
A signal lost in data dance.
No graves he digs, no flags unfurled,
Yet shapes the fate of half the world.
A mother prays, a student dreams,
Not knowing how he cut the schemes.
The country breathes, the chaos dies
While he dissolves in quiet skies.
So raise no glass, no anthem play,
He chose the dark to light your way.
For freedom’s cost is sometimes paid
By those whose names will never fade
Because they never first appeared.
Because their truth was always feared.
He is the myth they’ll never prove
The shadow none will dare remove.
The light that bent, but never broke
The last unsleeping, whispered cloak.
Invisible!
But never gone.
He moved the night before the dawn.
A whispered name, a shadow’s grace—
A ghost who shaped the nation’s face.
