Of the farmers, coal miners, and servants,
We are their children, descendants.
Their work fuels our blood,
Their wisdom our minds.
Play the music that connects you
To the memories
That belong to you and others.
For the beauty of life,
Is not in the absence of work,
But as a resolution to the effort put forth.
Can you feel the energy
Of tasks and eras past?
Can you sense the products,
Of the builders, artists, and cooks?
They have woven the fabric
Of the world before you.
The specters of lives once lived,
Now provide residual existence,
Just as you will do for those to come.
So we celebrate those before us,
That gave us the life we live,
And the objects that surround us.
Hear the cheers and sorrows,
Of humans of all times and zeitgeists.
For we carry on the traditions
And stories of our ancestors.
