I heard that on Mars, the stars don't look like starsbut floating gems scattered aimlessly on anendless crown, for a ruler lost in a vast sea of black.The silence, it's deafeningso much sothat the ringing suffocates like smallunknown towns etched on a mass-produced map.You would thinkthat with all the space and air,a home on Mars would be liberating and freebut on the contraryI cannot think of a bigger prisonabsent of security.And while the gems are beautiful,I can't help but feelmy body chained to a chaira throneto fill in a seatno being can obtainwith purity.