The Fool meandered over the dunes in the desert at night. He couldn’t help but stare straight up at the stars. There were so many to see. No light pollution to block out any of them. He could even see that the stars shone in different colors. The Milky Way stretched across the sky with a greenish hue.
He lost his balance and stumbled from staring upward while walking. Looking down, he saw a small farm ahead in a valley of sand dunes. The green crops looked out of place in this tan world of sand. He walked down the steep dune towards the small house.
The house was tiny. It could only hold a bed, at best, but it was made very neatly. The roof was pitched, and had wooden shingles. Smoke curled out of a small chimney on top and the one window that the Fool could see glowed orange.
A satyr stepped out of the house. He was carrying a pitchfork and seemed to be waiting for the Fool. After traversing the tall sand dune, the Fool got to the satyr, who nodded before turning and walking over to his crops.
What are you growing? the Fool asked.
Stars, the satyr responded.
As the Fool got closer to the plants, he could see that they had large broad leaves. They were vines, and they grew up wooden lattices. They had small flowers that were opening up in the night air.
The air was cool and refreshing. A nice breeze blew in from between two dunes and swept across the farm and out into the desert. The flowers all opened towards the source of the breeze.
They don’t look like stars, the Fool said, inspecting the small flower.
They aren’t ready yet, the satyr said. It takes thousands of years for them to be harvestable.
Why would you grow something that takes so long? the Fool asked.
The satyr leaned on his pitchfork and looked out into the night and pondered the question. He looked a little melancholy in his meditation.
A star is something that is awesome, the satyr finally answered. Anything else is just instant gratification. I want to spend time cultivating the soil, the nutrients, and tending to the plants. I want to nurture these stars until they are ready to be where they are in the night sky.
The Fool could see that the satyr was very passionate about his farm. He was in awe of it himself. He had never stayed somewhere long enough to grow even one crop, let alone wait thousands of years to grow stars.
He stared into one of the flowers and he started feeling a pull. As if he was being sucked into a tiny universe where the planets, stars, and suns were tiny pinpricks. He felt himself not blink. He pulled his face away from the star and looked out into the desert.
He saw the stars in the sky shimmer and blink. He could even see small stars travelling across the heavens in straight lines. Shooting stars streaked across the sky and some became burning fireballs.
They all started here, the satyr said, on these vines. He said the last part proudly.
I use the special water that the Star makes, the satyr said. He poured water on the plants out of an old clay pitcher.
You should go meet her, the satyr said, looking up at the Fool. You will love her. Just follow the path through those dunes where the breeze comes from and you will find her.
The Fool did exactly that.