Lionel Messi...Dear Father, I Will Play Through The Tears That No Camera Can See Poem by P A Noushad ...

When I raise my head to Heaven
dear Father,
I will not lay my boots beside your silence...
I will not leave the field
because my heart has broken..
I will walk again
beneath the stadium lights,
though my eyes may carry
the darkness of losing you...
I will play, Father.
I will play through the tears
that no camera can see...
I will run
with your memory upon my shoulders,
with your prayers beneath my feet,
with the little boy you once believed in
still alive inside me..
And when the ball finds the net
and the whole world rises in celebration,
I will not celebrate alone.
I will lift my eyes to heaven.
I will point toward the stars
and say without a voice:
That one is for you, Father.
Every goal shall become a letter
sent beyond the clouds.
Every victory,
a flower placed upon your memory...
Every time I rise after falling,
I will remember
the man who taught me
never to remain upon the ground...
You are gone from the seats, Father,
but not from the game.
You are gone from my sight,
but not from my journey.
Perhaps now
you watch from a stadium
without walls..
where there is no darkness,
no pain,
no final whistle.
And I will imagine you there,
your eyes following every movement,
your heart still praying for your son.
So I will continue.
I will score again.
I will fight again.
I will dream again.
And if destiny grants me another great final,
if the years carry me
all the way to 2030,
I will walk onto that field
not alone.
I will carry my son beside me,
and together we will carry you
into that distant dream.
And if, one day,
my hands rise again
with the World Cup above my head,
I will not look first
toward the cameras.
I will look toward heaven.
For I will know
that somewhere beyond my sight
you are smiling.
And I will whisper:
"Father,
we did it for you."
Then perhaps the stars
will understand our language.
Perhaps heaven
will hear the roar of the stadium.
Perhaps, for one eternal moment,
the distance between heaven and earth
will disappear.
And I will know
what grief could never teach me alone:
that love does not end
when the heart stops beating.
It changes its address.
It moves from the hand
to the memory,
from the voice
to the silence,
from the stadium
to the sky.
So wait for me, Father.
I still have goals to score.
I still have battles to play.
I still have dreams to carry.
And whenever I raise my head to heaven,
know this..
I am still your son.
And every time I point to the sky,
I am telling the whole world
what no trophy can ever say:
I love you, Father,
more than words were ever made to tell....