In the tapestry woven of time and grace,
Our stories dance in the vibrant hues,
Carved in the whispers of ancient space,
Where the past and present gently fuse.

Amidst the rhythm of drums that call,
Our footsteps trace the paths of old,
In every gesture, in every fall,
The spirit of forebears silently unfolds.

Beneath the canopy of stars above,
Identity blooms like a timeless flower,
Rooted deep in the soil of love,
Nurtured by the rains of ancestral power.

In the harmony of voices that sing,
We find our place in the world anew,
Embracing the culture from which we spring,
A mosaic of dreams, both old and true.