The men of forgotten race

I belong to the men

of forgotten race.

the men who toiled

for a bread of

sweat and sun

In places less foot kept

descending, a dawn at a time 

travelled to attend the

unattended whispers 

of mourn and disbelief.

I belong to the men

of hard hearts.

who'd leave at

the alter with

the name called

with the one

etched within.

not with the eyes which caught in the

air of kisses and pecks.

                                               

I belong to the men 

of love and sensuality.

not that we speak of.

but of actions, of hopes

and of beliefs.