Our Story

We come from our father's soul

And bred from our mother's heart

To become the perfect ideal of blood.

A catalyst between time's jet stream.

A bridge bringing moments together.

All we have are pictures from the past.

Fragments of faded faces sweetly smiling.

They pour their ancestral wisdom down

Forcing our choices to become memory maps

For the identities we created generations before.

Our accuracy in our traveling destiny

Must be acute to avoid failure of prophecy.

Or else the eyes of disappointment gaze harshly,

Until we wither and melt into expectations

And only then can we relish in out defeat.

We sons of hope must band together.

Be brothers in this crusade of pride

To show our fathers, our mothers

That time is irrelevant to what has become

The prologue to a history that will soon become

Our story.

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