In ancient caves, where shadows dance,
Artistry bloomed in a primal trance.
A canvas raw, the rocky scroll,
Where tales untold begin to unroll.
With hues of red, like flames that flicker,
And black like night, where dreams grow thicker.
White whispers purity, a silent plea,
While yellow sings of dawn, breaking free.
Nature's palette, in primal hands,
Crafting stories across vast lands.
Life's dance, in pigments bold,
Hunting, gathering, a saga told.
In rock art's embrace, a sacred stroll,
Where echoes of history deeply toll.
A tapestry rich, in hues profound,
In every stroke, ancient whispers resound.
కామెంట్లు
కామెంట్ను పోస్ట్ చేయండి