Whispers of the Past: A Lament for Our Heritage
Beneath the ancient stones where history sighs,
The rivers once flowed with a melody wise;
A sacred embrace of water and land,
But now murky whispers of sorrow expand.
The temples of granite and arches of old,
Stand witness to stories, in silence retold;
Yet the waters that nurtured these treasures divine,
Now carry the poison of mankind’s design.
Once glimmering blue, now a sorrowful hue,
With plastics and toxins that choke and subdue;
The fish once danced freely in mirrored reflections,
Now struggle for life amid human inflections.
Oh, let the winds carry our pleas through the air,
To heal what we’ve damaged, to show that we care.
For heritage thrives where the past intertwines,
With the rivers that flow through our lifeblood's designs.
Let’s gather our courage, rise up and defend,
These sanctuaries sacred, humanity’s blend.
For when water is tainted, it frays the whole weave,
Of stories and cultures that we can’t retrieve.
So heed the lament of the stones and the stream,
Restore the clear waters, revive hope’s bright gleam;
For in cleansing our rivers, we honor our roots,
And breathe life to the whispers of ancient pursuits.