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The copper dust swirls in the silent air, a ghostly breeze that sweeps the crimson plain, where shadows drift, untouched by human care. The lonely rocks remember seasons’ reign, and whisper secrets lost in ochre hue, their shapes eroded softly by the strain. A world of dreamers that wished they once flew, on tendrils of a storm that seeks its course, a sky so alien with a tinge of blue. Within silence, dreams dissolve their source, the dusk descends as shadows slowly thread, no birds to sing, yet wind’s relentless force. A dance of dust now settles just ahead. Zephyr's on Mars are wild; full of dread.
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