Mars

Mars

She is earthen red,
wraping herself with strokes of
oranges and browns,
blacks and greys.
Touched with unquestionable fashion.
She rests beyond the imagination of skies,
viewing heaven from within.
Her strides through the universe
reveal the beauty of her essence,
mistaken as stardust and milky ways.

She enters souls when she enters rooms,
disturbing domiciles of complacency.
Many scurry within her presence,
desperately (searching) to be with her,
be like her
be her.
But within her aura they are confused.
Her strides through space
dictate, she owns the joint.
Though she is unmoved by possession,
she knows infinity.

Yet I wonder whether her essence is revealed to her,
or is it a universe
created within my mind.
And is she a vision I lose
when I open my eyes.
Is it Mars that lay beyond the reach of sky
or is it imagination.

My strides reveal a ledge,
overlooking the expanse of sky
and the depths of earth.
The promise of her brings visions of flight
through her embrace.
Invincibility.
But she does not promise the embrace.