Unravel the Stars

Adrift in the sea of stars, marooned on another planet. The ineffable desert stretches as mountains stand around it. Strange, contorted cacti and old, rotten trees lie around me. I unsheathe my blade, ready for anything that may come.

The painted black sky above holds an ocean of constellations, illuminating the night. Three moons sit with it: one a deep orange, one grey, and one a soft blue. The cacti ahead stand in long, succeeding rows. A path. A beacon for the lost at sea.

I gently walk across. The only sounds are the duet of the soft crunch of sand and the night’s sonorous breeze. Ahead I see a palace, an acropolis, sitting atop the mountain cliff.

I slowly climb up, careful not to fall. There it is, ruined by time, stuck in an epoch long gone. Its columns, chipped and fractured. The large carving adorned on the roof is broken, smooth, and weathered by the sands of time. I sheathe my blade and enter. The floors, shattered. The roof, filled with holes, light beaming in. The walls, cracked. A small bust lies at the end upon a tall pedestal. Its gentle face, staring away from me. I try to read the plaque below, straining my eyes to make out the faded words. I wipe the dusty mirror sitting above the bust’s curly hair.

I see myself.

My hair, long and scruffy. My eyes, tired. My cheeks, wrinkled.

Who am I?

My name is lost, tossed aside during my journey. My only memory is of you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes.

I don’t remember your name.

But I remember you.

My only company, my only friend.

I silently look into the mirror a moment longer and leave. I climb down and begin another journey, with you holding my hand. I unsheathe my blade, hoping this time something will come my way.

I’ll be home someday.

I will unravel the stars to find you.