The Unseen Chain
written by: Shubham Gupta
They call him free, so calm, so wise,
With distant gaze and silent eyes.
He walks so slow, he speaks so less,
As if he’s found the cure to stress.
They say he’s left the world behind,
No chains of thought, no ties that bind.
But no one asks, with heart or breath,
What was it that he ran from death?
He left, not crowned with victory’s flame,
He left because he lost the game.
The noise, the name, the constant race,
The need to hold a smiling face.
He chose the path of silent ground,
Where chants replace the worldly sound.
But even peace comes with a price
Wake up before the birds think twice,
Bathe in rivers cold as steel,
Swallow wants you’re told to feel,
Fold your hands, control the flame,
Repeat the prayer, forget your name.
And still they say “He’s truly free!”
They bow in blind humility.
Not knowing that this too can bind,
A softer jail for soul and mind.
He watches rivers, hears their sighs,
They carry ash and human lies.
Of those who thought they let things go,
But clutched the robe, the beads, the show.
For letting go’s not walking far,
It’s living life just as you are.
Not needing robes, nor sacred flame,
Nor monk, nor saint, nor holy name.
Yet still he needs the rule, the role,
To patch the cracks within his soul.
He still wears “Free” upon his face,
A mask that time cannot erase.
And that, he whispers in the rain
Is the final,
silent,
unseen chain.
- The Unseen Chain - August 27, 2025
