Beneath the moon’s pale, somber light,
The whispers of the ancestors take flight.
In the stillness of the night, they speak,
Of journeys long and futures bleak.

Lanterns flicker, shadows dance,
In the realm of spirits, they glance.
Memories etched in time’s embrace,
A bittersweet, eternal trace.

Incense curls, a fragrant plea,
For peace and tranquility.
In the tapestry of life’s great weave,
The departed souls, we grieve.

Offerings laid with tender care,
In silent prayer, we lay them bare.
To honor those who’ve gone before,
In the cycle of life, forevermore.