Should I collapse, Steel yourself, For agony of defeat. Upon the brow, In burdened back, To each I come complete. In satin cast, Or climbing blooms, Devout peck, two shall meet.

I'm born of light, yet not alive, I stretch and shrink, but never strive. I mimic forms I cannot be, A silent twin that clings to thee. I vanish when the source is near What am I, always there yet unclear?

I bite the ocean floor, but never chew, clinging to earth beneath the blue. Though born of iron, I sleep in sand, holding giants with one hand.

A flying box that helped a driving piece of technology, sustained damage and failed to fly. Three years it has been in service, now a statue among the red regolith.

I reveal the world when I lose my veil. I reflect you back when I’m dressed. I am meant for seeing, not for leaving. I stand where inside meets out.