Astra

What is a man? A consolidation of achievements? A collection of experience? Is there something constant to him? Divine… perhaps. The desert is so empty that it has me contemplating my own existence.

As my sandalled feet tread against the cooling sands, the sun descends over her unyielding horizon, casting a halo of bruised light about my frame. Robed, I am tiny, in the immensity of the desert. Yellow infinity, interspersed with chips of grey rock, rising from the sandy sea like a carcass, like some long dead behemoth.

My skin is cracked leather, my lips cracked paper. My eyes have no water left to cry. Each trembling step forward brings with it a fresh take on the universe.

I laugh. The sound is choppy and hoarse, more like a starved dog than a man. It is only in pain that I find myself able to think of my place in all of this mess. Only in the emptiness am I able to see clearly.

Flashes of the past occasionally flit through my mind like shrieking vultures. They want to be fed. The taste of a steak, and warm water against my upturned face. The cries of joy, or of those pretending to have it. Forced smiles, and firm handshakes. Power… and status.

Part of me wonders if it was a worthy trade, all of that, for none of…this.

I glance behind me, squinting into the decreasing haze of light. If I peer hard enough, I can see a lion.

He too, is bathed in the diminishing glow of the sun, but he seems far more brilliant than I. Broad shoulders, a mane of crimson, and flanks of gold.

He has been following me for 33 days.

“Leave me alone!” I cry. I try spitting at him, but all that comes out from my rasping throat is a grainy cough.

I can make out his eyes, like shards of astral purity, brilliant in the darkening sky. I turn, and half run, half stumble onwards.

As night descends, my breath leaves me in puffs of mist. I am reminded of incense. For a while I watch them rise up, past the dunes, and the air, to what I can only describe as infinity. The stars are as numerous as the grains of sand beneath my feet, and part of me wonders if there is some astral counterpart up there, treading through infinity just as I am now. Searching.

“Is this meant to humble me!?” I cry hoarsely, sinking to my knees.

I don’t expect an answer. I don’t get one.

There, on that patch of cooling sand, I wrap myself in my robe. Sleep takes me with feverish fingers, reaching into my mind and dragging me down into another world. Or perhaps they are dragging me up… into the playground of the stars.

* * *

I am back in my old primary school. The edges of my vision are hazy and blurred, but I can make out the asphalt before me, and the roughly carved handball courts. It is night, and the stars are out in brilliance, but for some reason all of the children are out playing too. I see them rush about me, minds lost in other worlds just as real as this one. One child cries “For the Empire!”, while brandishing a stick, while another simply screams and charges with his own wooden weapon. I watch them, mouth wide with awe, and they seem to me as two knights in shining steel plate, carving out the fate of their kingdoms through battle. I wade through the tide of children, and see a thousand fantasies played out before me; firemen rushing past in screaming engines, dragon-riding vikings, a lone soldier mourning the loss of his battle-brother. Some children cry in corners, hidden away by well placed angles of brick and stone. I try to approach, but they are surrounded by an inky darkness that seems to pulse aggressively whenever I get too close.

There are no adults around, save for myself. I stride through the drama like a titan.

So far no one has paid me any heed, and I am free to explore my childhood haunts. I walk up the wooden steps, now so small, to my favourite classroom. I find my name in the school hall, next to the title of “School Captain”. Finally, I make my way to the secret garden.

As I approach, taking the twists and turns around classrooms and toilet blocks, the tide of children starts to diminish. The sound of laughter fades, and so too, does the illumination of starlight. I look above me to see the heavenly bodies winking out, one by one, with every step I take. I push through the underbrush that preserves the secrecy of the garden, scraping my face and forearms on twigs and thorns. And then I am there… the small clearing, everything exactly as I had left it. The crudely fashioned gate of sticks and branches still stands, marking the entrance. Before the gate are words, written in the dirt. I smile as I look down at them. “Only for the elect”, they read. I stoop under the gate and into the clearing.

* * *

Sand blasts my face to consciousness. Each granule is a worm trying to bore into my skin. I grunt, coughing, and roll over onto my hands and knees. I would’ve vomited if I had the strength, or the moisture.

I am in a tempest, except where most are wet this one is dry. Formed of swirling dust and hot winds, it is perhaps more furious than its tropical kin. I stumble to my feet, dragging my robe about my neck and face. Except, this leaves my ribs open, and I wince as the sand burrows into the exposed flesh.

The howling is deafening, and the sky is not there. It has been replaced by ochre fury. I take one painful step forward after another, and my joints crack in protest. Grunts become my language.

“Is this meant to humble me!?” I croak, and am rewarded by a blast of hot sand to my exposed throat. The force of it knocks me backward. I fall, twisting to land on my face. My fingers scrabble at my neck as I choke and wheeze. The sand is wriggling in my throat, delighting in its new, fleshy home.

My world is sand. I bury my face in it. It is in my eyes, on my tongue, and fills up the chasms of my ears. I try to sob. My limbs shudder with exhaustion, and my bones throb with waves of stress-induced pain.

The noise is deafening, the pain is deafening. I fear I am going to lose my identity in this. Like Ozymandias, it will strip me down, until I am one with it.

And then... it is still. The tempest is gone. I don't believe it at first, keeping my head burrowed and my arms wrapped protectively about me.

A small part of me wonders what I must look like. I laugh at the thought, picturing myself from the perspective of a bird wheeling above. I would look more spider than man, all spindly, splayed limbs, trembling and jerking on the ground.

There is nothing civilised to me anymore.

Can I even call myself a man?

I close my eyes and mentally call for death. I can almost feel him, lingering on the edge of my consciousness. I see him as he really is, a friend, and although he takes no corporeal form, I can picture him smiling. It’s not a smile of malevolence, but of sad familiarity. We are old friends, for we are all promised to him at birth. He comes for me now… he is close. In the still distance, I can hear the triumphant roar of a lion. It is my lullaby, as consciousness flees from me.

* * *

The clearing is dark, all the stars have gone out. Despite the black, I can see clearer than I have ever been able to. This place, crafted by my hand and the hands of my friends all those years ago, is in some sense more than real, and sight is not the only medium of navigation. I sigh, sinking to my knees, placing my hands on the cool, soft earth. I can see my name carved into the dirt, as well as the names of my two friends and co-founders. “Nathan.” I whisper. “Jean-Luc”. My voice is not like it is in the desert, instead it is soft and rich, like kingly robes. As I speak their names, the letters imprinted in the earth rise, and start to swirl about me. Like moons they orbit my head, faster and faster, beginning to pulse, then glow, then shine with brilliant light. Their speed is so great that I now have a halo.

I laugh as the glow illuminates my surroundings, painting everything in splashes of astral beauty.

The leaves are like chips of silver, branches rods of gold. Berries in the bushes are amethyst spheres, and even the dirt underfoot becomes more rich than the bioluminescence found in the oceans of earth. It swirls and twirls with hues of green and blue.

“It’s taken you so long.” The voice is soft, yet filled with more authority than I have ever known. I look up, and see a child sitting before me. His skin is glowing, celestial-like, and his eyes are two brilliant chips of ice-blue. He sits cross-legged on a white stone, and around him are stacks of shining books, which flitter from page to page in an unseen wind.

“Who are you?” I wonder out loud.

The child regards me with his chin raised.

“I am the one who never left.”

“Never left where?” I ask.

He sweeps his arm around his surroundings.

“This has always been within you. But you leave it for the desert of the world. But you also stayed. I am he that did.”

“The desert of the world? The desert I am in now?”

“No… Where you are now brings you closer to me… You have left the desert of the world, and are in lush pastures.”

“But I am dying down there, perhaps I am already dead.”

The child merely smiles, and one slender finger points downwards to an open book. It glows with golden light, more brilliant than the others. It begins to levitate, stopping just far enough before my face so I can read it.

There is one sentence written on the pulsing pages.

“Read.”

It is a command.

I obey, casting my eyes upon the glowing symbols. My spine tingles as my mind comprehends the words, even before they are spoken by my lips.

“Whosoever shall seek to save his life, shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose it, shall save it.”

As soon as my mouth closes, the words rise from the page, shining, and begin to spin around the child’s head, faster and faster, until he too, has a halo.

He looks down at me, a soft smile playing upon his lips, and in that instant, I know he is far, far older than I ever could be.

“Go…” He says, “and save your life”.

* * *

My eyes open gently, and the sand on my face is soft. Renewed strength, like a current of cool fire, flows bountifully through my veins, and I rise to my fight with fluid grace. The air about me is dark, the darkest part of the night. And yet, the stars populate the sky more numerously than I have ever seen. They are everywhere, legions upon legions of pure brilliance. I laugh as their dappled light plays upon my upturned face. I fancy I can see two stars up there, brighter than the rest. They are eyes, brilliant chips of ice-blue, staring down at me. Waiting. Watching.

A soft growl reverberates from behind me, and even before I turn I know who will be there.

He stands tall, and proud, and instead of the darkness suppressing his colours, he is all the more brighter for it.

The lion flexes his jaws, revealing rows of ivory fangs and teeth. His flanks shine with golden energy, and his crimson mane seems to me as a sea of flowing blood. But it is the eyes that capture my attention the most. They shine as if he had taken them from the starry host above. Perhaps he did.

My steps are soft, and the lion rumbles as I approach. There is no instinctive fear in my heart, instead, the gentle pulses of love, and friendship, radiate from my very being towards this creature. I feel it reciprocated, in a far more primal way, as the beast pads closer aswell.

I stretch a slender finger out towards his mane, and those astral eyes bore into mine, unwavering, and unblinking. His fur is both supple, like spun silk, and strong, like rods of iron. It is not a combination that makes sense, and yet, some part of me knows that this creature’s home does not adhere to such laws as I do.

“I have known you…” I whisper gently, my hand moving from his mane to his golden flanks, as my steps slowly circle the creature.

“You have followed me… from the stars, and through the sands.” The lion rumbles in agreement.

My hands move to the other side of his mane, and I laugh in joyous surprise, as not only do I feel hair, but emotions, travelling from his mane to my fingers, to my heart, and to my mind. The excitement of feeling my father’s attention. The rush of my first kiss. Power, and authority, as I stand over an unconscious opponent. Quiet intimations of the divine, whispered to God in the dark of the night. All these flash through my heart in less than an instant.

I finish my orbit in front of the lion, and kneel before him.

“You are… not real, but more real than anything here,” I whisper reverently. The lion nuzzles me affectionately. I stare deeply into his eyes, those shards of brilliant blue, and in that moment I am lost in them, as a swimmer in an ocean, as a ship in a galaxy, as a man in a desert. I wander through vast expanses of crackling azure, alight with distilled energy… and imagination. My Imagination.

For that is this lion’s name.

In one swift movement, I mount the creature, as a rider would a horse, and the lion speeds off into the night.

Muscles rippling with fluid grace, each leap of his paws takes us over dunes, and through storms, and miles away from our starting point. The lion looses a roar of utter triumph, impossibly deep, and I shout in agreement, laughing as the wind whips my hair backwards. We fly so fast that the desert no longer seems like sand, but a yellow sea, as completely fluid as the vast oceans, replete with its own creatures of the deep, that burst forth in showers of golden majesty, and schools of fish-like creatures that shimmer upon the surface with frantic grace. We are rising, up through the night sky, and soon the lion does not need to leap from the ground anymore, but instead he sprints through invisible currents of wind, bringing us both closer to the shining stars.

I sigh in contentment, as our destination looms in the distance, a star like no other, shining pure and bright with coiling blue flame.

As we approach it shimmers, transforming from fire to a swirling window, and my eyes are filled with its celestial vision. There I am, in the star, kneeling before a child with an upturned book. I am the man that I could be, not the spindly picture of malnourishment I am now, all bone and ragged skin.

In the star I am both king, and servant, seeker of knowledge, and completely wise, both a young child, and a grown man. Contradictions are no more barriers than clouds in this place, and just as beautiful. I dismount from the lion, not surprised that instead of plummeting to my doom, I float along the chill breeze like a feather. The desert now looks like a distant world, a rippling, golden stretch of reality that is now beneath me, in more ways than the literal. I look back through the window of a star, knowing what I must do, and turn to the lion.

Both the child, and the man I could be, are staring at me from the other side, eyes ablaze with anticipation.

The lion rumbles, knowing what is coming.

“Those who would save their life…” I murmur, “...shall lose it, and those who lose it, shall save it.”

With this, my eyes close upon reality, and I spread my arms so that I am a cross.

The lion launches himself towards me, and his jaws, now bigger than the world, swallow me whole.

* * *

I am walking in a desert, and now a garden, and now an ocean. The world is as I desire it to be, and all is light and radiance. Glorified, I bask in the power that was afforded to me as a birthright, that which was clouded and distorted by the shrivelled husk of the reality beneath. My only regret is that more of my brethren could not join me. And yet, part of me knows that this journey could only be undertaken in solitude.

Around me are the swirling forms of children, and animals, and creatures inconceivable to a conscious human. I reside in a celestial realm, interspersed with the seeds of brilliance we call stars. From this point, I see all, feel all and know all. Time is just another creature here, one I am good friends with. In a sense, I have always been here, and have only just arrived. I look down, watching a wretch of a man wade through a desert, searching after the faintest spark of truth. I smile the smile of a child, summoning divine words as he makes the unconscious journey here. He is searching for a star, through a dream, both realities far deeper than he can conceive. Until he becomes me.