Day One Hundred and Fifty One: 4.8 Miles of Spirit

I’m going to revisit this, I think. I have unfinished business. Spot the sci-fi references! It might even vanish later on….

Like the Vikings before me
I found a new home in this red soil,
While the shadow of Matvei Gusev
loomed large around me.
Creating a tribute to Columbia,
I moved nearly five miles away,
sending home pictures of things
that no one has ever seen.
The days got longer,
While I became accustomed to being alone.

Alone in an undisturbed desert,
my boon became a fettered romance,
Sleepy Hollow and colour images,
Humphrey and water history,
Taking samples and relying them back home
(A place I’ll never return too),
my little lonely mission to be carried out in lovely
barren seclusion,
wading through crimson sand
like walking through a sunken dream.

Dreams? You won’t believe the things I’ve seen;
Gold rocks and whirlwinds of dust,
Extending my sols (because this is how the Earthmen determined days),
delaying the rust.
372 watts and not a moment too soon,
I confirmed a water rich past,
So Earth need no longer look at the moon.
This dead place, in a dead space, once thrived with life
my itchy, broken wheel uncovered the signs,
yet I can’t help but become more Martian.
Before long I was stuck and communications were low,
batteries recharging, but the time between them
increased ever more, so stationary I became.

I had a dream about a blue sky on Mars,
Populated with humans and creatures alike
and warriors of ice.
One day, this will be a new home
and perhaps I will no longer be alone.
Whether terraformed and half-owned by one family,
a place to built new Starships,
Or a place for the creation of a glass metropolis
by the only superman,
this place will always remain cold.

In the cold is where I stand. No more sunlight,
Dust covered arrays,
no way to be cleaned,
a software upgrade,
embedded in Troy,
A Trojan horse
a Trojan
a fine-
Earth’s
Mars’
fine
work
Ho
rs
e.

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