In another lifetime, in another body, I remember sailing in the belly if a steel creature. Together this creature and I, we sailed the oceans between the stars. I touched Mars' red rust fields and visited the faerie kings of Jupiter. The beautiful queens who grace Venus gifted me with a week of fever dreams that seemed to reveal the inner workings of universe written in lines of fire before my eyes. A week on Venus is longer than seven of her years, so I went wonderfully, gloriously, beautifully mad for a time afterwards.
I travelled the universe beyond the Terran galaxy, hurtling along at speeds that kept me young. I dreamt of distant planets peopled by fantastic beings, and so I went to find them. No one commanded or ordered my comings and goings, it was all dictated by my own whim. Where I went, I shared the treasures of galaxies with distant star systems. Lylt songs were sung on Europa because of me, and maps were created through my knowledge. They all called me Stranger, but the way the said it was a blessing and a benediction. I outlived generations, children grown old in a single voyage, in a blink of an eye. To the peoples who knew me, I was ageless. I was above mortality. As I sat crosslegged around the fires of Keplarian hunters and told them the stories of the creatures I had met, the solar systems and planets I had visited. They called me a god, and who was I to tell them I wasn't? We create our own gods, weave our own legends. So I did not tell them I was born as weak and screaming, though I could not remember how long ago, or what planet I was native to. It wasn't important. The only important things to me were my ship, my journey, the people I met and the stories I was told. The whole of the universe was preserved within me.
But there came a day when I was riding the swirling solar winds that I felt my heart, which had always been steady, stuttered. My ship called to me, slowing. I patted the wall gently, comfortingly, sliding down the wall to sit, right hand pressed tightly against my heart. I know that I'm dying. I feel nothing but acceptance, it's my time to go. There will not be another journey for this well-worn body.
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of all my years pressing hard against my ribs, pressing me further into the steel. My soul will get another start, or so I hope. I hope I'll live my next life recklessly. I hope I am unburdened with purpose. But I doubt it. I have loved the the stars too well to be content with solid ground.
With one last smile, I die.
