Of course I’ve talked to the stars! They’re always willing to listen. They like hearing what we have to say. The problem is, mostly only artists talk to them.
You know, I was there at a gathering of them. Hundreds of storytellers and bards filled up a forest, all around a clearing, to try and see who could most impress the stars with their tales. I wanted to see what foolishness would come, so I watched.
The first minstrel stood. He was Kethrain, the King of Lyre, and his hands moved more quickly across those strings than a sword dancer’s blades. He sang of Princess Daeu and her Prince Dairune, who slew the dark lord himself to rescue his beloved.
A woman near me fainted with a smile twitching upon her face. Many men trudged from the clearing, convinced they could never tell a story with such skill.
The stars were unimpressed.
Next came young Panalia, a maiden with a voice like the moon. She sang of the majesty of Kree’Ah the griffin, who flew to the sun and drank the nectar of light. Her words spoke magic, weaving a ball of light in her upraised hand.
The illumination brightened the clearing, revealing the faces of many with tear-stained faces.
The stars were unexcited.
All night the singers poured their souls into the sky. Each sang of mighty heroes and great deeds. Each tried to impress with tales of love and kings and battles. Each failed.
Soon the sun would rise and force every star to slumber. I chose that moment to stand.
I sang a simple working song, the song of a woman washing dishes and hanging laundry to dry. I sang of a woman who fed her children by her own sweat, who served her family faithfully, who slept lightly so that she might be at her baby’s side the moment he cried.
The common bards jeered, not understanding why I chose such a plain offering. The modest musicians wondered at what I was doing. Kethrain and Panalia bowed their heads, seeing my wisdom.
The stars wept. They honored me that night and arranged themselves so that you can still see my picture. They had heard countless stories of great deeds, but none had ever told them of the simple things here on the dirt. Every bard tried to impress the stars, and none presented the simple things of life.
All had disregarded the wonder of common things, and the stars had never heard of them. For some, the common things truly are the wonders of the world.