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30
Walking across the Martian landscape,
I notice the larger canyons
Have the same shape as the smaller ones,
And the smaller ones have ditches
And the ditches have cracks
With similar structures within.
With my hand I can trace ejecta patterns,
Castles of regolith blown amongst the rocks,
Trails of clouds banked against the horizon,
And self-similar ridges in the palm of my hand.
So every atom and every star
Dances in pattern with every footfall.
I am enmeshed in a woven Universe
Of interlocking structures,
But I am still lost.
66
Sprawled on the desert floor
He again obeyed the insane command
To keep going.
How could this be progress,
To follow dots on a visor screen,
When all around him the desert sand
Sighed despair.
Sifting his fingers through the sand,
The horizon a straight line in every direction,
His hand caught on a curved edge.
He lifted from the desert a sculpted head,
So this was the race that built Mars.
From this artifact he could deduce
Community, grace, pride,
From the symbols on its forehead,
Culture, religion.
He held it, felt its blank gaze,
Kissed its inhuman features.
"Am I too late?" he asked the fragment,
"Let me tell you what we did..."
68
For years I wandered
The Martian landscape.
The infinite varieties
Of silence
Kept me company.
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