The Sun is set. Blinking, I step into the night.
O stars. O moon. O me.
Finally, I am.
Eternal loneliness can be shared.
Who shall the new Sun be?
Carefully, I pace my steps.
The floor is shards of glass, glowing by moonlight.
Sometimes I tread on them.
The Sun is gone and I can’t see my Self.
My hands are black, but they are there. They must be.
Please be there.
Who are you, Moon?
Curiosity shines on the glass shards, as they bite my feet. It doesn’t hurt. It will later.
And now, the stars. I can see them, Earth reflections, shards of the sky.
The world has ripped apart, once again, with more gusto.
I keep on walking. What else can I do? I walk with my music. It is mine, it comes from the stars. From the Moon, a thread, connecting stars, shards, thoughts.
Earth, where are you, hidden by glass shards?
My feet are sore now, I need you so bad.
I miss you all. You wouldn’t understand. Who I am. Neither do I. Can I apologize?
Earth holds embraces, and holds mud. Stars know no mud.
The Sun, the Moon, the stars: so cold, so distant.
I want a blanket.
I have one.
I possess the earth, and the glass shards, her blanket.
Glimmering. Hurting. Hiding.
The Sun is set. I can’t see where I’m going. My legs lock, in fear, in sorrow. My body is my cage.
I know what’s happened. I know what to do. I need to hear your voice.
(Pick up that phone, God damn it!)
Illustration: Yukimura Makoto, Planetes