Mateo Messi: An Ocean Of Tears, A Field Of Hope Poem by P A Noushad ...

Your dribbling is not merely skill, it is a quiet language of joy, written upon the green pages of the earth, where children and strangers smile together...
you arrive like laughter upon the wind, catching the eyes of the world with the innocence of light...
There are days when my wings grow tired. Communal hatred, blind belief, superstition, lies and exploitation, even in the sacred name of God, cast long shadows across the human heart.
Then you, your father, and your brothers become stars above my dark horizon, reminding me that love still knows how to wear the jersey of humanity.Their absence still echoes within my heart. But when your feet paint enchanting pictures on the field, grief becomes a prayer, and hope learns to breathe again...
Football, at its purest, is a mystical temple: its altar is hard work, its hymn is brotherhood, its miracle is love without borders...
May your journey be filled with grace, Mateo. May every child who watches you discover that the greatest victory is not over an opponent, but over hatred within ourselves...
And whenever I whisper your name, my mind becomes peaceful, my soul becomes luminous, and the earth feels, for one beautiful moment, like home...