In the silence of the twilight hour,
When the world is hushed and still,
I hear the whispers of our ancestors,
Their voices a gentle, calming thrill.
They speak of days long gone by,
Of struggles, joys, and tears,
Their stories etched in the sands of time,
Echoing through the years.
Guardians of our legacy,
They stand as silent guide,
Shadows of a heritage deep,
With wisdom that won’t subside.
Through bloodlines and through memory,
We carry their torch alight,
Honoring the past they built for us,
In the quiet of the night.