Amber pulse of Martis gleaming brightly beside still lush waning moon. Roman war god as means to peace, your inhospitable beauty has me spellbound. Desert lashed by solar storms, once did you live but your fires are all out and your thin air halts life’s precious elixir from running free. Waning planet, still gloriously lit with oxide hue, a paradoxical glamour to gaze and dream upon your steady light, amber heat upon my eyelids as I drift… Lucid dream stirs, a stolen name, a forgotten god. Come Tyr speak with me in my slumbers.