My ancestors live in Dinthenian basements
And retain all their riddles midst themselves.
Lo, my nine Fathers!
With their mystic myths and moral drives,
demonstrated a luminous way to
descendants’ foresight.
Nay of those Nine,
I could search at the end of the rainbow,
for the treasure of connection;
My eyes, my ears, my nose and my chin,
still there is something remain!
Lo of our Nine Fathers!
Who are obelisks to Kudari Khandhan,
scrapped chronicles among nine brethren.
When I interpret Kudari the Nine,
in posse idioms do awake…
Equilibrium of three worlds,
three pyramids, nine points of law,
nine day’s wonder, nine holes,
nine stones, nine planets and more.
The integral essence of life do resist
in this number nine.
Yet I give an enigmatic nomen,
“Kudos of Aristos” to Kudari’s Gene.
My Ancestors speak in adobe ways
and hold their tongues in the past.
I think they probably knew a lot more
about the higher caste masses and their
methods and skills.
Kudari the hotshot mahatmas who paved
their on way unmingled in masses.
Kudaries.,
As we immigrate back in time,
and to nine,
to the place left behind.
Our ancestors pellucidly prospered
in the everyday life they endured.
Somewhere their history is in
the arms of Morpheus,
in tomes left behind,
for us to sensitively search
But in conundrum our people seem,
for whatever reason they dream.
Yet giving up is not a choice,
you ‘ll hear from my voice.
Write as I may, of the one’s from
which I descend;
These may stubborn, stony and sincere
people they were.
Imagine as you must, how they
labour each day,
if they must resist and attain,
today’s canons cannot collate.
Basic food and shelter, and also
must be true,
love lives made as generations
lead life through.
As I answer of the stories heard,
of Father’s Father’s, Life’s
we to have restrain and comprehend its credit.
From eminence we have surely come,
of genealogy and grandsires of unknown sum,
Sires of Kudari implanted us
with an essence and esteemed edification.
Believe we should in our souls and salts,
they want the same from us.
Those Mothers and Fathers who watch
us from the Ether of Elysium,
honor we should their credits and values.
With our sacrosanct hearts, rolling drums,
psalms and symphony;
Sacred hymns we should hum in the Christendom.
and make heavenly music,
to honor the unknown sum.
With Lustrous Lips and Arum Tongues,
our Sires sing their own song.
