And they pulled up their hands
After soaking themselves in space
Took a breath and began blowing sand
Forged from dust amongst an age of waves
Where clouds of ash could fall like snowflakes
And their embers rained
A storm of ore was gently sprayed
Over the pattern of valleys and figment shapes
The rocky canvas flooded with pigment and seething grains
As shadows played against the flame
They lay in a wake of clay and paint
Bellowing songs of ancestors throughout the cave