[Intro]
Dusty fingers lace the loom of dawn,
Threads of memory hum in quiet song.
The sutrā whispers of a lineage drawn,
A bridge between the past and where we belong.
[Verse 1]
In the courtyard where the bells murmur old prayers,
Grandmother's hands guide each careful thread with care.
Silk and cotton braid the stories we share,
A circle of kin breathing deep, aware.
[Chorus]
Sutrā binds us, heart to heart, thread to fate,
Through seasons of longing, through time’s patient gate.
We weave our hopes into a living rite,
Growing taller with the dawn of the light.
[Verse 2]
The loom sings softly of seasons’ return,
Old pathways glow as new ones discern.
A rite of passage, a beacon we learn,
From childhood’s small steps to the elder’s concern.
[Chorus]
Sutrā binds us, heart to heart, thread to fate,
Through seasons of longing, through time’s patient gate.
We weave our hopes into a living rite,
Growing taller with the dawn of the light.
[Bridge]
From knot to knot, a promise is born,
We carry the circle where ancestors mourned.
Yet in each weave, a future is sworn,
To love, to honor, to heal what’s worn.
[Verse 3]
Now hands that trembled learn steadier pace,
The thread finds shape in a wider embrace.
A home in faith, in family’s grace,
We step forward, guided by sacred lace.
[Chorus]
Sutrā binds us, heart to heart, thread to fate,
Through seasons of longing, through time’s patient gate.
We weave our hopes into a living rite,
Growing taller with the dawn of the light.
[Outro]
So may the threads stitch future from memory,
A tapestry born of reverence, nostalgia, and mercy.
With every breath, we honor ancestry,
And weave a kinder dawn for the gathering.
