Products of Mars

Paint the silence with equations no one claims to own,
ciphered in the pulse of an unrecorded star.

We are the products of Mars,

Trace the pulse that hides beneath the shifting scars,
a quiet algorithm dreaming who we are.

In every orbit lies a truth we can’t unseal,
_Products of Mars,
in patterns only silence can reveal.

Write the dusk with remnants of a code we can’t decode,
signals drifting softly through a half-remembered node.

We are the products of Mars,
mapped in constellations that no history ever shows.

Shadows tracing diagrams beneath the spine.

If every silence hides a map of who we’ll be,
_Products of Mars,
unfolding in a code we never see.

We are products of Mars,
in patterns only silence can reveal.
They are products of Mars,
in patterns only silence can reveal.