Panspermia
Adrift in the sands, wandering in the plains of gold and blue, a bead of sweat rolled, like the tiniest pearl down my back. Each step I take heavy, filled with ache and fatigue, and with each breath I take, I struggle to grasp for air. My throat clawing for the molecules to be sucked into the dry, bitterness of my lungs, to fill them with life. I think to breath. I stretch my hand out towards Sol Invictus, to Freyr, they have deserted me to this sea of quartz, this cruel bed of obsidian.