I don't know how long I've been here, gazing up at these images.
How long have they been here?
This woad coarser with his cropped mane and tail--how long has he been here in the dark?
And this awkward chestnut beauty with beads in her mane...was she real, once?
All of them are together still, running in place forever on this forgotten cave wall.
I want to touch my nose to their noses. There is something about them, about this art, that fills me with a deep sense of longing; my heart yearns for something I can't quite identify.
How can something so simple looking, so crude, twist my gut like this and make me feel as though I've never...seen? I had almost passed right by here, with only a half second's glance at the painting on the wall before me now...all too eager to rush toward treasure, toward adventure.
But I have found my treasure for this day.
I have no bag or chest that can hold it; the only way I can take it with me is in spirit.
So I'll keep looking, until the colors and textures have painted themselves on the walls of my memory.