Ancestors

I have got warriors in the land of the invisible

Protectors in the realm of the intangible

Those who love me in the paradox of the dead.

Ghosts through centuries, 

Particular hosts of the same breeze.

Many flutes,

carved from the same tree.

Echoes of one truth,

We harmonize the same symphony.

Best believe,

I don’t pity me

Fueled by their steam,

I salute my history.