My Poetry. O Ancestor O mine.

Beneath the soil where roots entwine,
In silent earth, where echoes shine,
Lies the pulse of ancient days,
In whispered winds, their stories blaze.

The blood that courses through my veins,
Carries whispers of joys and pains,
Of lands once tilled by hands of old,
Of fireside tales in winters cold.

A thread of life, so strong, so thin,
Weaves through time, from kin to kin,
In every step, a shadow falls,
Of those who walked these sacred halls.

Their dreams, their fears, their laughter too,
Are etched in me like morning dew,
A tapestry of lives, so vast,
Stitched together by the past.

I feel their strength in every stride,
In every tear I’ve tried to hide,
They lift me up when I am weak,
Their voices in my heart still speak.

For in my bones, their spirits rest,
A lineage of the truly blessed,
And as I walk, I carry on,
The legacy of those long gone.

But gone they’re not, for in me they live,
With every breath, with all I give,
A sacred bond that time won’t sever,
Ancestry, in me, forever.