The traveler from a distant place

The traveler from a distant place looked up the night sky. The crescent moon smiled at the traveler.

"He'll get there," the moon said. "He may be tired but this travel is nothing compared to what awaits him. Though his heart may have endured the journey, I wonder about the end. Would he still smile with me each time he takes a breather from his long journey?"

"You gave yourself too much credit," the cloud told the moon. "He doesn't fancy you. He's more interested in the dreams he will have once he gets back. His back itches for bed, I can see it. As well his soles. They want rest. Badly."

"But the thing he carries," the stars said, "It's very important, right?"

"That is true," said the wind.

"Oh! Mayhaps that is what fancies him," the clouds said. "I wonder that's for him or for his lovers who awaits his return."

"How romantic," the stars said. "But-"

"You all have no foresight of this, am I right?" the moon said. "His heart will break once he gets home."

At the summit of a mountain by his town, the traveler stopped. He looked up the sky and smiled.

"I'm home, at last," the man said.

He failed to see, the lights he saw as festival in his town were actually fires from the raiders that are invading them.