॥व्र:Ta॥ console

In the dust of dawn, where the sun meets stone,
The rhino walks, silent and alone.
Its skin, like armor, forged by time’s slow hand,
Unmoved by storm, unmoved by shifting sand.
A creature of earth, of ancient, steady grace,
It knows no haste, but holds its pace.
The world may rush, may rise and fall,
But the rhino stands, enduring all.
In every curve, in every line,
Is the patience of age, the strength of spine.
A quiet truth, a lesson clear: To stand unbroken, without
fear