In the quiet halls where incense burns,
Whispers of the past in every corner turn,
Ancestors call, through veils unseen,
In dreams and shadows, they softly lean.

Red lanterns glow in memory’s embrace,
Guiding spirits to their resting place,
Ceremonial rites, a dance of old,
A bridge to the stories that were told.

The river of time flows with grace,
Carrying the wisdom of each face,
From life to death, a sacred thread,
Connecting the living to the dead.

Silent prayers in the autumn night,
Echoing softly in the pale moonlight,
A bond unbroken, through time and space,
Honoring the journey, and their eternal place.