we come in all shapes and sizes from the same primordial essence we return to.

if we are islands. to reach one another we must risk the space in between.

checkerboard earth, spring-green hills, and a sky that loops forever.

brick-red earth beneath a flat blue sky and cotton clouds. mind the gaps.

tan trails through tall grass. something is rustling in there.

olive drab, cold fog, and a low sun. keep your head down.

regolith and long shadows under a black sky. one small step.

scorched, cratered, and closest to the fire. no air to soften it.

a sulphur sky and a crushing golden haze. nothing here is calm but the light.

rust dunes under a butterscotch sky. the dust never settles.