The voice of my ancestors

In the morning, I hear the voice of my ancestors.
Sometimes they are singing, weeping, and praying for this generation.
They speak to me in a small, still voice saying, Help them.
You are chosen to help this generation. 
I take a moment to ponder.
Should I take heed to the call?
Am I brave enough to complete the assignment or did I phantom it all?

Once again, the voice of my ancestors call. We are fallen and we need your help.
Please take heed to our call. I built up courage as I begin to write. 
Get ready to take off, because this is your first flight. 
The voice of my ancestors is always there.
Awaiting to be heard, but who can they trust with the assignment of saving this generation?
I dedicate this to the voice of my ancestors.