Up here, the sun shines down with a stronger sort of pressure.
Early, early, he radiates with a Martian force.
War like, red-hot,
Dipping deep into earth and skin,
The midnight dew is no formidable foe to him.
He is the the God's cook fire,
A merciless, crackling thing,
His smile is penetrating,
He is dry and wry and unforgiving.
Red is the color of passion,
And red is the hue he gives me.
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