Song of the Neanderthal

In the caves of old, where shadows dance, I, a Neanderthal, with spear in hand, Chant to the echoes of the ancient land.
Once, the skies were ours, the earth beneath, We roamed with pride, in unity, in peace. Our fires lit the night, our songs, the breeze, But now, the whispers of change do not cease.
Strangers tread where once we walked alone, Their forms, so different, their speech, unknown. They bring with them tools of fire and stone, And with each step, our world is overthrown.
The forests whisper of their creeping near, Their camps grow larger, their laughter, clear. We watch from shadows, with silent fear, As they claim our rivers, our mountains dear.
Our children learn their ways, their new game, Their art upon the walls, not quite the same. Languages blend, like fire with flame, Yet in my heart, a mourning, a deep claim.
I sing to the stars, to the moon's pale light, Of days when our kind ruled, free and bright. Now, as we fade, like dusk into night, I carve our story, our strength, our fight.
In these caves, these sacred halls, We leave our legacy, our calls. Though the human tide overwhelms and sprawls, In my verse, in my art, Neanderthal stands tall.