Dance for me, dear minstrel of the moon,
Sing languidly, sweet flute of the lune.
Tressed in silver trains and sashed with gleaming stars,
Galaxies for your flowing mane, Princess of Mars.

White against red, like blood to linen cloth–
Such is your skin, as soft as a white moth:
A spot of whitewash, a drop of pure milk
That stains the heavy crimson sky with silk.

Descending from your ship of steel,
Your gaze in veils of iron concealed,
You step onto the sand of the Moon –
The first of foreigners in the land of Aün.

A grand procession seeps from the ships:
Brass, woodwinds, and pipes on their lips,
Maidens of braided coiffures and gowns,
Menservants bearing jewelry and crowns.

Lances, spears, percussion, and cheer,
The Universe revels in awe and fear.
Gonfalons, standards, colors, and banners:
Kings, lords, and men of all manners,

Gathered from every corner of this Realm,
With ships of all sizes, and captains at their helms,
To witness and celebrate a sacred union
Of two people, two nations, in a blessed fusion.

Aün and Imandi, two worlds made one,
A union, a tie, dare challenged by none.
The Moon and Mars now weaved with a loom
Of iron and silver–the bride and groom.

O Princess of Mars, allow me one last glance,
As the breeze whips your hair in a dance,
As your dress sways to a sweet lullaby,
As I whisper a final goodbye.

Though I’m unworthy, allow me this word,
I’ll dare to say it, though it sounds absurd:
I love you, o princess–a plain, simple love.
With my heart of hearts, like a tender dove.

Not a love of pain and lust,
Neither one of ashes and dust.
Though it’s rude, admit it I must,
Lest my strength be made to rust.

Go, dear princess. Take your prince’s hand;
Enter with his people, his heart, and his land.
For now is not the time to weep,
But to sing, twirl, dance, and leap.

A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd–
Ten thousand races, hands aloud;
Brass resound a hymn from Mars,
Pipes and drums echoing the stars.

With a forlorn gaze, I sigh and falter.
With quivering breath, I sadly whisper,
“Farewell, dear princess. May your years be prosperous,
And your love be stronger than a fortress.”

With one last look, I turn away,
Boarding my ship, the 'Evergray'.
Though I’ve no plans, I’ll return someday,
A visit to the Prince and Princess I will pay.

the breeze tastes of strawberries
and the sun
swaying towards the horizon
in the deepening sky
pleasures my metronome thoughts
like her hips
as the music catches her

rolling and tumbling
when the rhythm in the salted air
matches the one she finds
pulsing
in the place she goes
on moonful nights

where crescent beaches linger
singing in her hands
with mother of pearl choirs
strung around her shoulders

in the ashen light
waves roll in
cresting on her
powdered sugar *******

and coral reef lips
leave their mark
crimson stains
on a leeward palm tree

having run aground
under a sky spread map
of misaligned stars
I search for grace
in the shadow of her eye

Dreamed about for centuries,
humanity finally now knew they were not alone in the universe.

They had arrived in such a manner that our instruments detected them only three days before their arrival.

Some believed it was an attack, or a mere scouting party for a larger force, others believing the ship was actually derelict, operating on autopilot long after its occupants perished.

Soon, both those theories were put to rest as the ship landed and indeed life forms emerged from it.

But there was no diplomacy with them, no greeting of peace or aggression.

They exited their craft, the hulking oblong thing that it was and merely wandered.

For weeks and months, a half dozen of them crossed fields, climbed hills, sat in the woods, splashed in streams and just generally meandered.

They had no weapons, no advanced tools to aid in their travels, they had what appeared simple fibrous blankets, a large metallic ***, dulled by age and a single instrument with which to light fires.

Any attempt by political, military or media figures to approach them and engage with them in any communicative way failed as they showed no interest.

No one dared to try and corral them anywhere, for fear yet that it was some kind of strange survey party, one that would report back to a much large fleet or home world.

Yet after a time of a little less than a year they had returned to their ship. there was no message, no waving goodbye. They simply closed the door and after a few minutes of undoubtedly preparing their instruments they left.

The world then waited. Years, decades and centuries for another visit.

Searching, determining, where the ship had gone and from where it came.

But it's origin or destination were never located.


No subsequent visit came.

                             *

                          asleep
                        and fall
                      777)       
                    6     ­         
                  5                  
                4         ­            
              3                       
            2                          
          (1                            
        i count them                 
      (starry starry night)      
    through the night sky      
  (fly into heaven)                  
woolbirds fly high                

The heavenly stars are on fire
I’m told.
You have to take some things on faith.

But where’s the smoke?
.
.
Songs for this:
Man in finance (G6 Trust Fund) by ******* a couch, Billen Ted
Bored by Laufey