The Words of this song Just resonate with my Soul!!

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Once upon a time, in a small Native American village nestled among the towering pines, there lived an elder named Kaya. Kaya was known for her wisdom, her gentle spirit, and her unwavering faith in the Great Spirit. She had seen many seasons come and go, and her eyes held the stories of generations.

One crisp autumn morning, as the leaves painted the forest floor with hues of gold and crimson, Kaya gathered the children around the fire. They sat cross-legged, their eyes wide with anticipation. Kaya’s voice, like the rustling wind, began to weave a tale:

“Listen well, my little ones,” she said. “There was once a young warrior named Takoda. He was strong, swift, and fearless. But he carried a heavy burden—the knowledge that his days were numbered. A mysterious illness had settled in his chest, stealing his breath and leaving him weak.”

The children leaned in, their imaginations taking flight. “What did Takoda do, Grandma Kaya?” asked little Aiyana.

Kaya smiled. “Takoda decided to live like he was dying. He climbed the highest peaks, feeling the wind kiss his face. He danced under the moon, his heart pounding in rhythm with the drums. He painted his dreams on the canvas of the sky.”

“But why?” piped up little Micah.

“Because,” Kaya replied, “he realized that life is a fleeting gift. We are all travelers passing through this world, and our time here is borrowed. Takoda sought joy in every moment—the taste of wild berries, the warmth of a friend’s embrace, the laughter that echoed through the valleys.”

As the fire crackled, Kaya continued her tale. Takoda visited the elders, listening to their stories of courage and resilience. He planted seeds in the earth, knowing he might not see them bloom. He forgave those who had wronged him, releasing the weight of bitterness.

“But what about fear?” asked little Nokosi. “Wasn’t he afraid?”

Kaya nodded. “Fear clung to Takoda like shadows at dusk. But he faced it head-on. He held the hand of a dying friend, whispering words of comfort. He stood at the edge of the waterfall, feeling the spray on his face, unafraid of the plunge.”

The children sat in silence, absorbing Kaya’s words. She leaned closer, her eyes twinkling. “And you know what, my darlings? Takoda’s illness didn’t define him. His spirit soared higher than any eagle. He loved fiercely, forgave freely, and danced even when his legs trembled.”

“Did he find a cure?” asked Aiyana.

Kaya shook her head. “No, my sweet one. But he found something greater—a life fully lived. And when his time came, he closed his eyes, surrounded by love, and whispered, ‘I am ready.’”

The children blinked back tears. “But Grandma Kaya,” Micah said, “isn’t that sad?”

Kaya’s smile held both sorrow and joy. “Life is a tapestry of colors, my little warriors. Sometimes the threads are bright, and sometimes they’re gray. But Takoda taught us that even in the gray, we can find beauty.”

And so, the children carried Takoda’s legacy in their hearts. They climbed mountains, danced under the moon, and forgave with open arms. They lived like they were dying, knowing that each breath was a sacred gift.

And Kaya? She continued to tell stories, her voice echoing through the pines, reminding them all to embrace life—to live, truly live—before the sun dipped below the horizon.

And so they did.