The Winds of Mars

Not so on Mars…

There, the breezes blow
Over sand, not snow,
And the distant hills
Stand silent.

What does it mean?

For millenia
The winds and sands
Have sifted
The Martian desert,

And no one heard
And no one cared—
It didn’t matter.

So, too, this poem
Millenia hence
Will not be read
Will not be heard,

And like the Martian wind
I whisper
In the silence;

And no one hears
And no one cares…
It doesn’t matter.

But I've been here
To write these words—
And don't care
What happens after.