Memorial

So, my friends, my children: tonight we gather to give honour to those who, for a time, trod the stars.

All of you know that dreams are the stories that the stars whisper to you before they go out. It is a very old story, and you have heard it before.

When it was a younger one, however, it is said that one of the people thought to ask who told story to the stars. "For it is wrong," he said, "to only tell, or only hear. You yourself have said as much, storyteller."

The storyteller sat, and thought the night away with the question, for such was true, but she did not know the answer. In the morning, she said as much to the people gathered there, then turned and bowed low to the questioner. "I do not know, but this does not mean one is unable to find out. If you are willing, go and ask it of them yourself."

For it was still possible to fly to the stars, then.

The questioner thought about this for a long time, for it was said that those who had gone and come back were changed almost beyond imagining, and there were those who had not come back.

While he thought, he flew a little higher every day.

It was a season before he decided to go. On the day he left, his wings were strong, and the people gathered to wish him well.

The storyteller took him aside, and said to him then: "have you thought what story you will tell them?"
And the questioner hung his head, for he had not been able to think of a story brave enough to tell the stars.
"You will tell them your own story."
"But the stars are so big, and my story is so small."
"It is not. It became the story of all the people as soon as you told them of it. You bring the people's dream."

And the questioner looked around, and saw that it was true.

So he flew into the stars. When he came to the first star, the star looked at him, and said, "what are you doing here?" For it had been long and long since one of the people had flown so high.

He said, "So, my friends, my children," and the star laughed in delight to hear the words; it had been longer yet since it had chance to hear story.

Eventually, the questioner flew back to his home, and the people said to him, "the stars flicker now."
And he said, "they are laughing."

He decided to go again to the stars, as he knew they were lonely for story, and soon this became the pattern of his life: he told stories of the people to the stars, and told of the stars to the people.

One night, the stars asked him to stay, and he accepted. He wondered: how will I let the people know I have decided to stay among the stars forever?

That night, all the people dreamed the same dream. In it, a star cast itself down from the sky to the earth.
Such a thing had never been seen before, and some, upon waking, thought the stars were crying.