In shadows cast by time’s embrace,
Tradition weaves its rigid lace.
With threads of honor, lineage drawn,
It shapes our lives from dusk till dawn.
Yet, beneath the weight of ages past,
A brilliant soul, steadfast and vast,
Deserves acclaim, yet often wanes,
In the silent chorus of muted refrains.

Conservative paths, well-trodden ground,
In narrow lines, true wisdom’s found.
Yet is it wisdom, or simply fear,
That keeps the heart from drawing near
To realms where wildflowers bloom untamed,
Where thoughts run free, and souls are claimed?
For every step in ordered lines,
A world beyond the border shines.

Tradition, a guardian, a guiding star,
Yet can it confine the mind too far?
In the echoes of ancestral voice,
Do we lose the chance to make our choice?
For every truth, a counterpoint,
A whisper soft that dares anoint
The vibrant hues of wild decree,
A challenge to the status quo we see.

To break the mold,...