In the silent shadows of the ancient trees,Whispers of ancestors weave through the breeze.Tales of old, in hushed tones they tell,Guiding us gently, casting their spell.Through the rustling leaves, their voices rise,Echoes of wisdom beneath the vast skies.Their footsteps carved in the paths we tread,Legacy of dreams, by their guidance led.In the moonlit night, their spirits dance,A timeless waltz in a trance-like chance.They hold our hands in moments of doubt,In silent strength, their presence shouts.As we walk the earth they once knew,In their ancient eyes, our souls renew.Bound by the threads of their endless lore,We are the echoes of those who came before.