A Vision Of Heritage Poem by Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh

One day I rode my bike accross the fields,
Where quiet grew, and trees stood sentinel.
Their ancient scent, a past that time reveals,
I felt the fading culture's silent knell.

And resting on a rock beneath their shade,
I saw a maiden dressed in ancient guise.
She led me to an ancient land displayed,
Where people welcomed me with open eyes.

The lovely maiden stepped outside with friends
And danced around, her beauty to commend.
Then an old man appeared in ancient dress,
And said, 'That maiden is your ancestor's kin.'

But when I woke, my people around,
And all the vision vanished, lost in sound.