You Did Not See Me

A rather unusually sparked poem written in a morning of a half-asleep state. I can't quite come up with the manner to which one may see it, and I view my position in life as more a spiritual one, with many beliefs respected in all of heart, so however you feel in views of this writing, I suppose there is no wrong way.

I have been here before,
another time, long ago, another face,
as I held this man's ill head upon my hands,
in a far off forgotten place.
I absorbed his pain into my own soul,
breathed life back into his body as he thirsted for air.
No one knew of me,
but I was there.
I traveled along the essence of time,
carrying the burdens of each life, each death upon my own heart,
drifting in and out of each soul I could touch,
in my immortal form, taking on the presence of man, of woman, a role in each part.
You did not see me,
as I walked along with you,
beside you,
as I stood before you and spoke within you.
You did not see me,
as I was the same as you, as anyone, another face within the crowd.
I bore the same scars of life, of death,
of sorrow,
bearing witness to the ever changing shroud.
I am but a single traveler,
upon these grounds to which you walk,
as I try to reach, and touch the many,
whispering words through the winds, I talk.
You carry me,
as you did once long ago, in kindness smiles along the lines of your face,
and I'll continue my journey, absorbing your pain into my soul,
with the soft brush of my hand, your tears, my solemn soul will comfort in warm
embrace.