There lays more beneath

Tawdry and unkempt he may be
but full of wisdom when he speaks
scrape off the dirt and grimy skin
he maybe winsome underneath
who knows what lies beneath it all
who knows the depths 
that his riches go and flow
as if like magic, an alchemist unknown
who knows if he once had a throne
just because now he has nowhere to go
beggars belief, he is a beggar of the street
yet there is mystery about the way
he shuffles his feet and grinds his teeth
with sparkling deep limpid eyes
ask no questions, he tells no lies 
yet within him there is more
so is this vagabond look simply a disguise
am I being fooled here before my eyes
tear strain cheeks shows he has cried
maybe over a thousand lifetimes
wrinkled parchment coloured skin
you can feel the grime almost sinking in
through the pores on his face
and on the cuts on his hands
this is truly a quixotic man
for he fails to meet our fixed demands
on what homeless perceptions command
he is vital yet, resonates life and light
too much going on behind them eyes
to classify this downtrodden man as beaten.