Thoughts and memories buried deep
in our minds originating from time so long ago
and across vast distances we become lost in the
numbers and mathematics, but the light and energy
is seared and imprinted like a birthmark of unknown origin.

And we may not know or discover this deep knowledge and history
until some external stimuli, perhaps a sight, a smell, or music, burrows
into the locked portals and brings to light the shadows grounding
our origins to this place and beyond.

I watch an airplane across the evening sky,
diminishing light as the sun is leaving.

Still trees reach toward the heavens,
as blackness envelops the landscape.

Layers transform across the spectrum
scattering particles reaching these human eyes.

What is out there beyond the layers,
beyond the limitations of distance and speed?

Further I sink into the night
as the moon and stars take over.

Deep breath releases a hazy fog
and when cleared, the origin stretches out before me.

Burdened with questions,
begging for answers,
as a divide grows,
we walk through empty fields.

Searching the horizon for direction,
the shifting sky scatters with each breath
and when we listen to the primal unseen screams,
we lose ourselves in fear and doubt.

Broken and beat down by the present
afraid of what the future will bring,
there is hope in the past
where we all came from the stars.

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In the quiet moments
free of our internal conversations
and struggles, the world around us
opens and we hear a song born
beyond our vision, carrying with it
memories of the first light,
of the origin of ourselves.

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Random Thoughts of Mars, life, its origination

Steeped in science fiction stories and the books of lore.

On a peaceful and sunny day, scattered clouds thin
I looked at the sky toward things I could not
physically see and pictured you, dear Mars.

The center of attention.

Ancient questions of the human race surface
with renwed vigor and attention.

How did we get here?
Where did we come from?

I look at my whitish skin
tinged red from too much time
in the sun and imagine laying
outside on Mars.

I look at my whitish skin
tinged red from too much time
in the sun and imagine my
ancestors roaming the Martian
surface.

Childhood thoughts were consumed by destruction
a pending nuclear winter and the sublime
greyish ash painting the landscape.

Dreams night after night of orange
mushrooms before the fallout.

Where would we go?

This poisoned planet will one day
banish us from its surface.

Where will we go?

The red plant holds slim promise, so
we send machines impervious to the years-long
flight, adjustments, extreme heat and cold,
and the potential fatal landing within an
approximate location.

Eyes glued and breath held as images beam back to us
after minutes of anticipation.

We have arrived.

Are we welcome?