Cuevas de Arta

Untouched by any tour guide’s lights,
Beyond archaic stalagmites,
Deep in the bowels of the earth,
Created prior to Moses’ birth,
I thought, though it is hard to prove,
I saw a hazy shadow move.
Flitting lightly here and there
Within it’s subterranean lair,
Watching as we chattered by
With deep and somewhat mournful eye.
Only glimpsed in blackest holes,
These earthly, prehistoric souls
Whispered softly in the nooks
Where mankind hardly ever looks.