Beneath sodden skies veiling crimson terrain, primordial whispers entwine with the silent, haunting symphony of Martian deserts. Here, the echoes gather, gravity wells swathing the lonely disarray of desolation upon desolation unlit.
Shadows linger longer. Jades and ambers bleed into the anemic horizon like weary gods tracing their farewell waves upon sand's timeless shore.
"Are yesteryears lost among the sunken heliotropes?" I asked, drawn into celestial sepulchers their dissonant hymns composing.
Where memory and myth intertwine, casting flaming silhouettes upon the abyssal canvases of dawn's dough-braided reminiscences.
LibraNo moon awaited there; only ghosts nested among the temporal riddles buried wide across Martian plains. Fenestrated by nebulous gusts, these grades are reverent cathedrals, unwitnessed yet omnipresent in the ephemeral dusk.
Echoes doubt. Perhaps they dream the sand-drakes ride on futures unformed.
And so, stare as we might into this snare of cosmic inertia, where notions of space bend, stretch, mincing reality upon blades of time. And yet, there remains naught but the Martian silence; merciless, poetic.
Eclipse