I begged, every night I begged for my hands to pry my eyes away from the stars. It was a shaken struggle, trembling small veins carving mountains across my skin. The glue-gazed strands that stretched upwards from my face seemed to have a strength not of this world. It wasn't a choice to have my gaze stolen by the stars, the temptation of beauty cracked loudly forcing my attention.

This was my temporary reality - stuck in place, my neck corkscrewing deeper, spinning and contorting comfortably at times. And at times, it was sheer anxious agony - the kind you would feel in the moments where there was no way out. The emotion pushed and pulled away - sometimes letting up, and at others digging deeper into my psyche. I pressed on my brain to spin faster, hoping for a moment I could catch my breath between the waves of the dizzied skies. I'm exhausted, I've sunk higher and the memory of feeling the solid rock beneath my feet was long gone.

For as lonesome as it were, the night still watched and I suppose there was a beauty in staring at the cosmos this long. The cold wind crept along my arms lifting my sleeves, upwards and outwards to my guide my hand to an invited waltz. The sheet music was empty save a few notes made by the low hum of air tonguing at the grass. Alone I danced, admiring the wings of Apus, free in the fantasy of the maiden's body - the raw power of Ariga's chant commanding of his chariots. Steadfast, and faster, if timed it right and gripped the arm of his wheel, I could spin my way out.

I still can't remember how I ended up here, who I was, let alone where I was before all of this. I do recall the elders warning us of being lost for eternity though - an old cautionary tale told to us as youth. The stories of being taken by the sirens in the sky, for as pretty as it were suffocating, it guided you north with quiet whimsical tones, north to the edges of the earth, north further and further north until you fell.

"Young kuto, never be like the man who was lost in the world that did not exist. For he was like you once - filled with lock-boxed ideas that no one cared for. He would never share them with the world. Our life force is dependent on each other - shared through the flow of conscious. But he would spend his days alone on the calling rock overlooking the green fields - waiting for their hue to change from vibrance to calm pine, waiting for the night to come. For as much as we welcomed him, he rejected our love, choosing to keep himself locked away. Abandon not, we kept watch to make sure his chains never broke free - for we thought there was safety in the mind. Never did we think he would leave his thoughts."

Thoughts - that's all they were at the time, same as mine.

"Kuto, he dreamt all day long - what it would be like to be a man among stars. Thoughts of independent heroics, jumping from star to star, death and extinguish to bright lights and birth. He pleaded in silence to be noticed even when all the eyes were on him. There was no limit to the mind, but we thought it better he be lost there where the body could not escape. We warned him that if he were to leave the rock, he would never return - for the night ate away at every living being. Leave him to his thoughts alone to dream of the stars, but to never reach them for he would never return. "

I can almost see him, or maybe I was dreaming I could see him. But the man on the rock was there for as long as I could remember - muttering to himself about how he would eventually venture upwards. We would gather around him, a fetishized freakshow - he would speak, never to us, but he would speak. 

"It's there, it's all happening out there. Can they not see? Can they not see I'm not meant to be here?! Of course they can't - they can't, how could they living in their dust and dirt and sound. They don't understand - feeble. The stars, they shoot, from place to place, climbing higher. There was one there last night, I watched it run through the sky. I need to see where they go."

I took pity on the man - he was alone always. The look of defeated confidence painted his facial expressions when he spoke. Was it loneliness that pushed off that rock? Sedentary madness? Maybe he was just lost. I never could understand his lack of understanding that there were those who cared for him - he shunned them every night when they carried him away from his post. I dreamt of the look in his eye each night, it reached outwards, fixated on his rock, glued to the skies as he was pulled away and tucked in tents with the rest of us. I think he left his mind on that rock each night as his body slept.

I never bothered to ask anyone why. I kept that to myself. 

"And one day Kuto, we did as we always had, just before sun dug it's shoulders into the ground, we walked to the rock to bring him back home and he was not there. All that was left was the ten small prints carved into the stone where he crouched."

Funny, accessing memories of the old tales has led me to remember how I got here - everything that had lead to this. I made the mistake with intention, to go out there alone and look at the stars. I feel my body again, or felt my body as I slid my hand across the dips in the cold rock where he crouched. Dusk approached and something called me over. I hear it now as I heard it over the weeks previous, it has been calling me over for days on end. I truly listened for the first time, the walk was hypnotic, away from the waving fires and the tribal speak growing distant and inaudible the further I followed night. I didn't get it anymore. They were stuck in the dirt, caught in little loops of dust that kicked up from their laughter. For as much as they warned not to stick your head up in the stars, I thought to myself, how feeble it was be to bury your head in the ground.

It was better here - alone amongst the stars. And they did shoot, from place to place leaving small bread crumbs to mark their journey. Never did they come back - nor will I. My neck unscrewed itself comfortably and the hand of the wind slipped tighter between my fingers leading our waltz. I can't feel my feet anymore. I can't feel anything. My gaze no longer upwards - I was staring them in the face, the stars. I'm not sure how I ended up here, but I beg that I never go back.