There is to be shame in your heritage.
For you, before anything else, are the child of survivors. Two hundred millennia of survivors, for you.
And so too is everyone else.
Most everyone who might have been, cannot be known- they are all lost to us now.
But for you, for you, your ancestors endured.
And so too for everyone else.
In you are their stories, in you- their pain.
In you lies every morsel of beauty conjured so they might endure, and every narrow escape from the claws of death.
They lived, loved and died for you. For you.
They built worlds, community, empires. For you.
And so it is for everyone else.
If you sit quietly, if you let the hurried now ebb for just a breath- you might hear them.
They sing in a tongue lost but familiar. A song to inspire all that is good, all that is magic, in you.
For you are them. And they were you.