Who is this man dressed in a box who comes to me at night to unwrap and unravel the trappings of his day?

His manner is pleasant. He is welcomed here.

But why does he come this distance to offer me notification of such things?

 

Things like the moon and stars that are shining. I can see the stars. I know they shine. They are beautiful and I share his love for them. 

He will ask me why they shine on us both when we traverse such distant paths. I answer that I do not know, we each have our path. His is by the sea and mine the fire.

 

Sometimes he offers to help me rebuild this fire of mine. Or at least to praise me for continuing to stoke it's flames. For the warmth it creates. With my calm. My logic.

 

Then he checks on the moon and the stars and asks me if they moved. But our paths remain.

 

Other days he will share his tales of the sea. Show me his sketches of birds made of octopus ink. How the Dolphins played. The words he passed to the sirens. And the things he would do if I were his siren!! "My fire would burn if you did that!!" We laugh. He asks if the stars moved. I wish to answer... Alas I cannot control the stars. He jokes once more about the sirens and passes out to sea...To see. 

 

All at sea. 

 

His deep, calm sea. 

 

Sometimes he just waits. 

 

He is quiet, but the conversation and questions hang all around him like stars. I wish to ask, but know I have no answers. I maintain my fire. So he waits.

 

Until

 

'You are... Special... Little star

Your fire has shone on me and lit my core in ways you can never know. Yet I fear that this fire is not for me. I fear that without my own fire ...'

 

He turns and walks away... 

 

'It's hard to build a fire at sea. When you sleep, I can't hear you breathing...

Because you aren't there.

 

Do you think tomorrow the stars will move?'

 

I wish upon a star that I had an answer.