And one day,
so the TV said,
a man in a small cave of ochre
and mud,
lifted but a shard of stone.
Roughly drawn across its surface
were repeating X's, topped and tailed
and struck through, three lines;
all ochre red.
The oldest art known to man
they said.

To tears,
or close I was
at not the age
but the wisdom of this rock.
For art is culture,
and culture a mirror on society.

This stone was so familiar.
We've never really changed.