The Blue
The moon was pale. As pale as his face as he stood there beside the nightly sea, silent, as the Universe that reached far into the end of time and beyond. He could feel the sand under his bare feet. It was still warm after the day's heat.
The world was blue. As blue as a dream that quietly slides to the edges of one's consciousness. The little islands were dark, almost black against the deep blue sky that still carried a reddish memory of the vanished sun. Massive, blue clouds stretched from one horizon to the other and behind them, the pale moon shone like a huge beryl, painting a shining path on the surface of the solemn water.
If I was to step on that path, would it carry me? he thought. Would I be able to walk from this shore to the unknown, beyond the seas?
He wondered how the light-path would feel under his bare feet. Would it be smooth and cool as silk? Or was it soft and warm as velvet? He decided the silk would do. He loved silk. Its touch against his skin was so familiar and secure. One of those rare things that had ever touched his pale, sensitive complexion. He was afraid of touch. And yet, he longed for it.
The turquoise hue of his eyes shone almost as bright as the moon. He took a deep breath. The air was so fresh and fragrant that breathing felt more like drinking. He could pick out the scent of lilac and it reminded him of home. A melancholic sensation descended into his heart. He sat down and wrapped his long arms around his knees.
I am lonely, he thought. I have always been lonely. I just never understood that. Not before he came into my life… Yet, why am I still feeling lonely?
He felt the blue in his heart turning darker. He felt the heat inside his chest. Glinting, like a shard of crystal, a tear escaped his eye. He bit his lower lip not to cry but the nightly scene before his eyes turned foggy. He bent his neck and inhaled.
If only, he thought desperately. If only…
The first summer star appeared into the sky. A lonely star, so bright he could see it, even through the tears. And through the tears he smiled ruefully. I am a star, he thought. I am bright and distant and lonely. Yet recently, he had noticed it was not him that was unattainable as a star to others, but others who were unattainable to him.
Even if he reached as far as he could, it was never far enough. There was always too much space between the star and the Earth. It had always been so, and so it would always be. The price for shining brightly. The price for being him.
He looked at his long fingers. He moved them slowly, admiring vaguely that perfect combination of tiny bones and muscles. A miracle, he thought, and suddenly yearned for his violin. I could make it sing, he thought. With these fingers and with my violin, I could make the whole world to sing!
He raised his eyes and saw a huge cloud moving slowly past the bright moon. The edges of the cloud shone like blazing silver. So beautiful, he thought. How did I manage to forget how beautiful it is? He wiped his eyes and smiled at the moon. It was a loving smile, yet tired. Why was it that when he finally saw how miraculous the world was, there was no place in it for him anymore? Why did it have to be that when he finally accepted being a human, he had already turned into a star?
He felt his chest constrict, a tightness that hindered him from breathing. I cannot do this, he thought. I cannot go on living like this. But he knew there was no other way. Not for him.
He pressed his forehead against his knees. The black curls moved slightly in the moonlight, as he slowly rocked himself, back and forth. He didn't want to cry, but the night was too beautiful. And he was so alone.