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Ballad of the Wandering Star

by Sam McAlister
Chapter 1
I’ve tramped the roads where the dust runs deep,
with the sky pressed low on my back.
I’ve heard the wind tell stories in tongues
that sounded like bones gone slack.
And the nights out there grow stranger still
when the stars lean close to pry,
for a man alone learns quickly enough
that the heavens know how to lie.

I was heading north where the sagebrush thins,
just a fool with a lantern and pride,
when a shooting star tore open the dark
like a seam the world tried to hide.
It fell so near I could taste its heat,
like iron fresh from the forge,
and I swore I saw a face in the flame
that the night tried hard to disgorge.

The old folks claim those lights up there
keep watch on the sins we sow.
They mark the path of the lost and damned
where no sane rider would go.
And the cosmic winds blow oddly cold
when a soul steps out of line,
for the stars keep ledgers in silent ink
that no mortal hand can sign.

I tracked that fire to a nameless ridge
where the moon lay bent on a stone.
The dust rose up in a haunted ring
and called me nearer by tone.
There in the ash lay a compass black,
still hot from the fall of the sky,
and the needle spun like a drunk man’s oath
no prayer could pacify.

It whispered soft as a dying coal,
promising truths well kept.
I felt the weight of its starlit pull
in the marrow where secrets slept.
For a wanderer learns the cosmic price
that the wishing stars demand,
and I knew with a chill that slashed my spine
I would pay with more than my hand.

So I left that ridge with the night behind,
with the compass tucked to my chest.
It throbbed like something newly born,
like a story refusing rest.
And the further I walked, the more I knew
that the sky had marked my name,
for the constellations turned their heads
like judges preparing blame.

Now I tramp the roads where the dust runs deep,
and the trail grows sharp with fear.
The compass spins when I speak one lie,
and it spins when truth is near.
I reckon the stars aren’t done with me yet,
for they follow wherever I roam.
And a man who steals a fallen star
never truly walks alone.