So often, our truest fan stands near,
A silent presence, always here.
An unseen light along our way,
Yet we walk past them every day.
We fail to notice, fail to see,
The friend who loves so selflessly.
She was there through joy and pain,
But he was blind, lost in his lane.
He stood by her at every turn,
Yet for his love, she did not yearn.
Like an admirer trapped in disguise,
Hiding devotion behind tired eyes.
Still, you chase illusions, fleeting, cold,
Giving your heart to hands that fold.
While right beside you, waiting true,
Is the one who always knew.
Your greatest fan, so close, so near,
Yet overlooked, unseen, unclear.
Not because they hide away,
But because we turn the other way.
[Psalmist]