Within Kandinsky Crater I stand upon dusty ice. Above me cold stars endure, oblivious to love, to loss, to despair. My faceplate fogs.
Losing one’s love in metal and fire incinerates the soul. I am an urn of burnt rock and ashened dreams.
Mercury’s ferocious sun does not reach the polar region’s shadowed crater floors. Here the sun never shines, there is no twilight, no sunrise, no sunset. There is no break of day.
But Mercury’s ice, deposited by burning comets, endures.
Huddled in this sanctuary of shadow I too am burnt, fallen from the sky.
I too will endure.
Marc A. Criley avidly read fantasy and science fiction for forty years before finally deciding to try his hand at writing. He and his wife “manage” a menagerie of cats at their home in the North Alabama hills. Marc maintains a blog at kickin-the-darkness.com and noisily tweets as @That_MarcC.
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