Embers and Stars

Amr Abbas

The soft murmur of the autumn breeze carried the soft melodies of the song of the wind. Dried leaves swung in the wind, they danced, flailed, and hovered until they fell by his feet. They crunched under his feet. Every step that he had taken in his life led him to those woods at that specific moment. Perhaps if fate was to let it be, he would eventually get out of the dying woods, but for then, for there, it was his destiny to be there.

He looked up to the starlit sky, certain that the breeze would soon turn to wind, and the wind would carry the clouds, and the clouds would carry the rain, and so the cycle of thought came washing over his brain that he had forgotten to see the stars that lit the sky. While he walked slowly, and carefully, his mind raced. It was not the destination that his mind or feet raced to, but the road behind that he so viciously wanted to rid himself of.

Rings of smoke rose in the distance and immediately, his tired feet caught up to the speed of his racing mind and he walked there. There was a campfire where a stranger sat, warming himself. It was then that he realized how cold he felt, and he rushed to the fire.

“Rest.” Said the stranger softly.

He sat down by the fire, first on his knees, warming his hands. He saw the dirt that coated his fingernails, the scratches that covered his hands and felt the cold ease somehow, somewhat. He wished to ask, but the words did not come out. He knew not what to ask.

“It’s fine.” The stranger said, “We are all bound to come here. Often, we forget to look up and only look at our feet. You, too, watch those flames so intently, but have you looked to the heavens today?”

He looked at the stranger whose features hid behind the rising smoke and the flailing flames, the embers burnt so intensely, but as the words came, he looked past the fire, and he looked up at the sky.

For the first time in so long, he looked up. He saw the starlit sky with all its glory; a painting that no man could recreate. He saw the sky as the great ancestors saw it long ago. He saw Orion surrounded by his dogs. Time stood still, and the stars in the sky shone brighter than any light he had ever seen. His soul danced with the stars, and he regretted all the time he looked beneath his feet.

There was no destination, only a journey that led him there and then. Perhaps he would march on, seeking his salvation, or perhaps he would stay by the campfire and the stranger. He did not know then. All that mattered was stars that may have been dead for so long, but even that did not matter anymore. For all he could bring himself to say was, “I’m sorry.”