Ghosts of Tradition Yield to Brave Tomorrows
We are shackled to history, our wrists bound
By the irons of deeds done, words left unsung.
The shadows of our ancestors surround,
Their presence felt in each breath that we've wrung.
Choices made long ago still hold sway,
Directing our path down this destiny's road.
We stumble onward, eyes blind, led astray
By ghosts of the past we insist on our load.
Grudges and wars stain the centuries spread,
Their blood-rust so thick it can scarce be unwound.
Prejudices nurtured, distrust sown and bred,
All these are the fetters by which we are bound.
Look how we cling to the safety of old,
So fearful of venturing outside norms.
We shun innovation, progress forestalled,
Ever haunted by ghosts of forebears long gone.
How long will we stay trapped in this dead past?
Its phantoms ever whispering in our ears-
"Turn back, go not forward, this too shall not last,
Steeped in nostalgia, drowning in yesteryears."
Let us break free of this paralysis dread-
No more living in the shadows of the dead.
The departed are gone, their time now long spent-
This moment is ours, the present is heaven-sent.
We honor old ways by building on their light,
Taking the best and leaving behind what is not.
Through courage and vision, we now set aright
All that our ancestors left damaged and fraught.
The bonds of the past can hold tight as a vise,
And love of tradition remain snug as a glove.
But change is what allows humankind to rise-
We must not become prisoners to what we love.
Customs and habits familiarity breeds,
Yet even the deepest ruts come to dead ends.
Soon the known path twists into brambles and weeds-
We must break ground anew, transformation transcends.
How fares a seed that refuses to spread its roots?
It rots, becoming compost, its potential destroyed.
Clinging to the past bears the same damned fruits-
Let yesterday fertilize, but not leave life void.
The ghosts of history make their presence known
In whispers warning of ruin should we depart
From cherished ways carved out in cultural stone-
But it is they who would keep us from our heart.
For though comfort may be found in the familiar,
Growth demands we leave even Eden behind.
Venturing into lands unknown and peculiar,
Planting seeds for those who come after to find.
We till fresh soil though our ancestors forbid,
Braving their scorn for this heresy of the new.
The dead may not see it, but we do as we did-
It's for love of them that we now dream and do.
Past becomes present then future in turn
If we let time flow as a circle, not chain.
Each generation must learn and unlearn
Taking the best, leaving the rest behind again.
For the dead never really leave us behind-
They stay within us, their hopes now hopes we hold.
What they began we continue in heart and mind,
Standing on their shoulders to reach even more bold.
But reach we must and explore lands unknown
If their dreams are not to molder and turn to dust.
We honor their memory by how far we have grown,
Building beyond limits that long since combust.
The ghosts still whisper caution into our ears,
Warning that leaving the past brings woe and ruin.
But the only prison is one built on fears-
We must let innovation and change bear new fruit.
Or risk becoming as ossified as the dead,
Mired in what was, neglecting what might yet be.
Clinging to ashes, afraid of the road ahead...
This is their nightmare, not what they'd want to see.
We free trapped potential by unlocking what's past,
Making peace with history, then letting it go.
The dead haunt no more- we have freed them at last
From time's prison that held us all, friend and foe.
The bondage of yesterday we do now shed,
No longer weighed down by historical chains.
Forging ahead unburdened, nourished instead
By the best of what was, purified of stains.
Our fate we shape moving forward unfettered,
Honoring the past by building beyond its scope.
For the promise ahead remains largely uncharted-
Let old ghosts now rest, no more need they hope.
We embrace our ancestors by realizing their dreams,
Remembering but no longer confined by their days.
What is yet to be born our new vision redeems-
We must exit the prison of past ways.
Though forebears speak warnings from history's mists,
We heed their wisdom but not their resistance to change.
Our world now transforms faster than they could exist-
If we stand still, we allow their nightmares to estrange.
By breaking the shackles binding us to times gone by,
We perfect the gifts our forerunners gave.
Charting new oceans under new skies,
Fulfilling potentials they were too confined to brave.
No longer weighed down by the burdens of ages,
We look back in gratitude but turn our eyes forward.
Each generation's purpose ever reshapes and changes-
Building on their light but stretching past where they could afford.
Past ghosts now whisper encouragements in our ears,
Freed from repeating cycles timeless as they may seem.
They lived for their day, we for ours without undue fears-
Shaping tomorrows they could not fathom or dream.
We turn from the comforts of habit and tradition,
Venturing boldly to uncharted realms ahead.
Past prison walls we now face the future's vast vision,
Believing those gone before would bless where we tread.
No longer contained by history's careful creations,
We burst forth from their bounds with imaginative zeal-
Exploring unpredictable new permutations,
Embracing transformations past norms would conceal.
With courage we depart from the trodden and tame,
Unfettered by those who cling fearfully to the past.
We honor their memory best by pursuing change-
Creating unforeseen futures, progressing at last.
Past voices of warning we hear but transmute,
Taking their wisdom but shedding their resistance to change.
Traditions once solid now give way to the acute
Awareness that growth depends on perpetual rearrange.
By building upon but then leaving the past behind,
We free those departed from bonds they could not transcend.
Their light guides us forward, but no longer confines-
Our shared human story continues to ascend.
Grateful for those before, we yet stay not with them,
Lest their shadows obscure the light of our own day.
We mourn but accept all must fade, lives find their end-
Meaning is made anew with each turn of time's wheel this way.
Our moment is now, our purpose unique in each age-
We see further by standing tall on our ancestors' sway.
But the unknown future remains ours to engage-
Let ghosts keep their peace, they are free, we are on our way.
The poem is part of a full version found in the book “Homo Sapiens” Part Part I - XVIII, written by Mawphniang Napoleon. This book is part of the popular “Homo Sapiens” book series, which can be purchased online at various online bookstores, such as Amazon. The book is available for purchase for those who are interested in reading the complete version of the poem. Remember to get all the books from the “Homo Sapiens” series, as well as other books by the same author. So, don’t hesitate and get a copy today from one of the many online bookstores. Khublei Shihajar Nguh, (Dhanewad )(Thank you )
About this poem
This poem eloquently explores the weight of history and the struggle to break free from its shackles. It encourages embracing change, honoring the past while forging ahead into uncharted territories. The message is a powerful call to free ourselves from the paralysis of the dead past and shape our destiny with courage and vision.
Written on April 10, 2021
Submitted by Mawphniang.Napoleon on November 10, 2023
Modified by Mawphniang.Napoleon on November 12, 2023
- 7:01 min read
- 1 View
Quick analysis:
Scheme | Text too long |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 7,193 |
Words | 1,392 |
Stanzas | 34 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1 |
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"Ghosts of Tradition Yield to Brave Tomorrows" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/173499/ghosts-of-tradition-yield-to-brave-tomorrows>.
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