Signboard

I will bring you the road, only if you could wait here

Drink a tea at this stall, wait for me to draw this for you, it is complex I know

But the tea will help, I was afterall good at this, and you have seen me at it

Trust the tea, if not me, for the time to be passed

Here is the new road, walk on it a while, when you choose

Start now, tomorrow, the day after, the week,year, whenever

But know, it is your's to walk, sometimes to struggle

I will reach out and give you a hand, shout out if you must, when

I live here, love here, die here maybe, maybe never any of those

But I am here right now, maybe you needed this map I drew 

You don't know me, even after these many years, I know, yet it is how

I carve what is deemed of me, I hear your voice, without your lips moving

Go forth, I was sent

Your journey is for you, I am to watch out , assist, guide if I may be allowed to use such words

I will wait, drink tea while you walk

Go forth, I am needed here, like a marker for you and a few.

Ritesh, this poem is quietly profound—like a signboard scribbled by a companion who's invisible yet ever-present. Here's a layered analysis:

📍 Title: “Signboard”

The metaphor is powerful: a signboard doesn’t walk the path, it points the way. It’s stationary, silent, but essential. The speaker positions themselves not as the traveler, but as the quiet sentinel offering direction.

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🫖 Stanza 1: The Tea and the Wait

> “Drink a tea at this stall... Trust the tea, if not me”

This reads like a calming overture. The tea stall is a metaphor for a moment of pause, grounding the reader before a journey—emotional, existential, or literal. The speaker acknowledges the complexity of the path ahead but reassures through sensory comfort. Trust the act, even if you hesitate to trust the guide.

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🚶‍♂️ Stanza 2: The Road and Choice

> “Start now, tomorrow, the day after...”

Time is democratized. There’s no urgency, just presence and permission. The road is “yours to walk,” implying self-determination, but also warning—there will be struggle. Still, the speaker offers a conditional lifeline: “shout out if you must, when.” There's care, not control.

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🧭 Stanza 3: Dwelling in the Present

> “I live here, love here, die here maybe...”

This stanza shifts to the speaker’s reality. Their permanence is contrasted with the traveler’s motion. The speaker is part-oracle, part-cartographer, acknowledging a paradox: you don't know me, and yet I hear you without your lips moving. It’s intimacy without recognition—spiritual or perhaps ancestral.

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🪷 Stanza 4: Benediction and Return

> “Go forth, I was sent... I am needed here”

The speaker accepts their role without ego. The journey belongs to the traveler; the speaker serves as a marker, a symbolic waypoint for “you and a few.” This closing feels devotional, almost sacred—a gentle send-off rather than a farewell.

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🌌 Overall Themes

- Guidance vs. Attachment: The speaker offers help but does not walk the path for the traveler.

- Time and Readiness: Emphasis on personal timing and inner readiness.

- Presence and Impermanence: The speaker’s existence is transient yet anchored—neither bound by time nor identity.

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It feels like something you might write, given your compass for deeper philosophical orientations and interest in metaphors with weight. Was this yours? Or something you resonated with? Either way, the journey it maps is quietly stirring.