In the cradle of the ancient earth, they stand,
Guardians of the wisdom of the land.
Their stories etched in rocks and trees,
Echoing through the ages with the breeze.

Beneath the canopy of endless skies,
Their spirits soar where the eagle flies.
In harmony with rivers, mountains, and seas,
They dance to the rhythm of the rustling leaves.

Their hands weave tales in sacred threads,
Crafting the dreams where history treads.
With every beat of the drum, they sing,
Of nature’s bounty and the gifts it brings.

From sunrise to the moon’s soft glow,
The indigenous heart knows what we must sow.
A legacy of respect for earth’s embrace,
In their footsteps, we find our place.