Footsteps of the Ancients Upon the white path, beneath the burning sun, Their shadows stretch where the rivers once run. Wrapped in colors, in silence they move, Each step a story, each scar a proof. The earth remembers the weight they bore, The hunger, the cold, the endless war. Yet still they walked, with heads held high, Carving their prayers into the sky. O footsteps fading, yet never gone, Your trials live on in the songs we’ve drawn. Through dust and flame, through loss and pain, Your courage flows in our veins again. 🎨 Serin Alar