On crimson sands, beneath a rusty sky,
A figure walks, and a cloak of fireflies high.
The Red Cloak of Mars, a legend whispered low,
Through canyons vast, where ancient secrets flow.

Is it a hero, cloaked in Martian fire,
Defender bold, with untamed desire?
Or perhaps a phantom, haunting desolate plains,
A lonely soul, where silence reigns?

The red cloak billows, a mystery untold,
A splash of color in the Martian cold.
Does it conceal a warrior, fierce and grand,
Or a wanderer, lost in this alien land?

The Red Cloak fades, as shadows lengthen deep,
Leaving behind a fiery secret to keep.
A silent promise whispered on the breeze,
The Red Cloak of Mars, forever to appease.

The polished plane twists what it sees,
A warped reflection, mocking breeze.
My smile a grimace, eyes cast down,
Beauty distorted, where's my crown?

Lips pursed tight, where laughter played,
Wrinkles etched deep, where youth once stayed.
This glassy snare, a cruel deceit,
Shows not my strengths, but flaws.

But wait, a hand, a touch so true,
The warmth on my cheek dispels the blue.
Love's gaze reflects, a vision bright,
The mirror's lies dissolve in light.

If we build a time machine, a whirring beast,
To chase lost moments, memories unreleased,
Would we rewrite the wrongs, the choices made,
Or stir a storm, a future yet unplayed?

The past, a siren, with a tempting song,
Could fixing cracks just make the whole thing wrong?
The future is veiled, a mystery untold,
Might tampering unravel, make us grow old

Before our time? The present, fleeting guest,
Would chasing shadows leave us unblessed?
Perhaps the journey's heart, the quest's fire,
Is what defines us, fuels our soul's desire.

Not shrouds of silk, nor funeral black,
But garments are worn, where shadows track.
The weight of loss, a heavy cloak,
Draped o'er our hearts, a mournful folk.

Each thread, a memory bittersweet,
A whispered laugh, or shuffling feet.
A smile was long gone, a tear that fell,
These clothes of death, the stories tell.

Yet, in their folds, a strength takes hold,
A love that lingers, brave and bold.
Though shadows cling, a light breaks through,
We'll wear these clothes, and see us through.

Not words of men, but sounds unbound,
A language deep, in hearts profound.
No grammar binds, no meaning set,
A primal song, a soul's duet.

We speak in tongues, a fire's roar,
A crashing wave on some far shore.
Beyond the mind, where logic sleeps,
A well of feeling, oh so deep.

Each sound a brushstroke, paints the sky,
A tapestry where spirits fly.
Though words divide, these feelings bind,
We speak in tongues, one heart, one mind.

The river flows, a ceaseless song,
We bend to drink, where we belong.
Though waters rush, a constant churn,
The riverbed, the lessons learned,

Remain unchanged, a guiding truth,
We sip anew, in seasoned youth.
The taste may shift, with the heart's tide,
But to the source, we still confide.

Twice dipped, the cup, yet ever new,
We drink, ourselves, forever true.
The river sings, a constant hum,
We are the same, yet overcome.

Not born of one, yet kin to all,
We sprout from seeds that gently fall.
Nurtured by the sun, by rain, by grace,
We climb and weave in nature's space.

Whose fruit are we? A mingled breed,
Of sun and soil, of wind and seed.
From countless hands, our essence grows,
A tapestry where every petal shows.

We bloom, we wither, time takes flight,
Yet in our essence, all unite.
For in the end, beneath the sun,
We're simply fruit, become as one.