The Riverbed of Ancestors

Where home begins, a riverbed extends,
Not carved by water, but by ancient grace.
Each solid stone, a life that softly bends,
A silent ancestor, holding time and space.

The bedrock deep, a wisdom long imbued,
From hands that tilled, from voices strong and clear,
A silent current, constantly renewed,
Dispelling doubt, and calming every fear.

They are the silent shapers of the ground,
The unseen forces, steady, strong, and true,
Whose patient labor, long ago profound,
Still guides the course of all that we pursue.

Each ripple marks a story, gently told,
Of laughter shared, of struggles bravely met,
A lineage woven, precious as pure gold,
A guiding presence, we can't quite forget.

They are the banks that hold our spirit's flow,
The unseen currents, shaping where we go,
Their quiet strength, a vibrant, steady glow,
A legacy of love that helps us grow.

We feel their presence in the shifting sand,
The gentle murmur of a timeless song,
A quiet comfort, always close at hand,
Where the past and present beautifully belong.

The water clear, reflecting sun and sky,
Carries their essence, through each passing day,
A sacred bond, that never truly dies,
Illuminating our uncertain way.

This riverbed, our truest, deepest home,
A flowing testament to lives gone by,
Where every soul is never left to roam,
Beneath the watchful, ever-present eye.

- Khushi Kaul