I saw you on the moon, dancing in between the rocks, floating in the light. You were something, some remnant from a story my great great grandmother had shared with her husband the night he said he loved her, the night they each realized how much they had to lose. So many beautiful and honest secrets dissembled as fable. I think it was celtic or norse or slavic. I saw you on the moon, doodling spirals in the sand with your toes. And you were as real as the love declared by my ancestor to the woman he would have died for. I saw you on the moon like a fairy tale protoplasm.
I saw you on Mars, seeking shelter from the sun, on fire even in the shade of giant boulders. You seemed to be an álfar or demigod seeking asylum from the violence and idolatry. You were an angel and a demon attempting to tame the light and the dark of humankind, all life, the universe. I think you must be centuries old, of the Tuatha Dé Dannan tribe. I saw you on the red planet, rearranging the stars in the atmosphereless sky. And you were as real as battlefield oceans of blood, and love and light. I saw you on Mars like the only artifact of honest-to-god magic.