Forgotten tribe

What about this tribe?

One of a mass of souls wandering

Up and about in the cold

Empty vessels made of gold

Seeking the kind of strings

Many take for granted

That tribe whose

“Knock and the door shall be opened to you”

Is only but a verse in the Bible

And what about that tribe

That longs your touch day and night

That dances with the stars

On cold lonely nights.

What about that tribe

The one that cares only so much

Happy with nothing in return

These empty golden vessels

Willing to give away

The golden vessels itself

So that you may empty your tears in it.

Drawing smiles in ink

Is only an attempt to hide reality.

Always remember that tribe

That cared when no one or everyone did.

The one that cared when you closed both eyes

And faced the other direction

That tribe that stayed

Waiting with open arms

-Solomon-