Ancestors

Ancestors Amidst the urge to know so much, I’ve lost you, willingly or not, from my memory, O my ancestors! Where were you a hundred years ago? What was your identity? I know nothing. Truly, I am inhumane, a rootless soul. I don’t even wish to know your names, Your stories feel utterly irrelevant. Yet once, we were the thoughts in your mind, Our identity intertwined with yours. But I’ve kept you in neglect, And thus, I still fail to know myself. Forgetting is indeed the work of hypocrites, A trait of the faithless. It has become our nature now, Like tossing aside a diamond beneath our feet, Only to lift our heads high toward the endless sky. In return, we’ve gained nothing but weary eyes. Your words of wisdom are truly vessels of great knowledge, Which I’ve abandoned without understanding, And so, I ask, can we ever truly grow Without knowing the essence of our being? O my ancestors! Not knowing you is my greatest sin.