Spirit of Ancestry

In the lines of his face, a story unfolds, A testament to trials and wisdom told. The paint on his skin, a symbol of pride, A connection to the land, where ancestors reside. The feathers on his head, a crown of might, A guardian of traditions, in the still of night. His eyes, a window to a soul so deep, A keeper of secrets, in a silent sleep. The braids that cascade, a river's gentle flow, A heritage rich, in every strand that grows. In his presence, a sense of reverence takes hold, A bridge between the past and stories yet untold. He stands as a sentinel, of a culture so grand, A living embodiment, of a land so vast and planned. His spirit, a flame, that burns with quiet strength, A beacon in the darkness, a guiding length.