An original poem that I wrote many years ago about an ancient civilisation of people. There is no identification of the race, but this poem relates to so many. So it is up to you to interpret the specifics, or not even worry about needing to have a specific race, instead just let it be and consider them to be a human race.
And just know, that they are alive and living as they are and I am alive and so grateful for all that I have.
I cry a flood of hot wet tears,
when I listen to the news and hear of the atrocities,
that strike fear and hatred,
in a beautiful, misunderstood race of people,
that have been around for so many thousands of years,
so near to the source,
of life giving force,
so clears in their beliefs,
on such a pure course,
that would give many a lost soul,
a sense of relief,
and a place in their hearts,
of warm, loving peace,
It's such a shame that we westerners feel,
that they need to be released,
From their prisons of devout beliefs,
which is their only way to show appreciation for all that they have,
which is not much,
but complete and utter devotion in their souls,
which I know is worth far more than gold,
for with gold comes greed,
and these people have no need,
for such trivial things,
when their life depends on
prayer and genuine thanks,
that they send to the universe,
to complete their transaction,
of their life, here on this earth.