The sun sets diligently into the western desert horizon as a brisk breeze picks up some sand from the ground. Slowly, the barren wasteland becomes a dark plain of fear and wonder. The stars show in the sky like millions of candlesticks lit to show the way. The moon's pale vibrant glow turns the sand blue. The heat has died and all that is left is bitter cold as you watch your breath leaving your mouth. The small wispy waves that you make while you breathe keep you unaware of the fear that crawls inside your mind. Deep within, you feel that anything may happen.

The land never ends, it just keeps rolling forever. The landscape is never the same as wind moves the hills into holes and the holes into dunes. Crickets echo through the crisp air, slower and slower. Your eyes begin to feel weighted down by some strange sense. Your body gives way to the small grains below your feet. Lying on the ground, you glare at the sky, envious of what it has. You want the stars, you want their beauty with you, but the stars can't be with you. You need the moon, but you know you can't; you can only watch and wish you had them. The only time you can spend with them is the night. The sky will always have them. They are so far, far away. You want to touch them; you want to feel them. The sky doesn't know what you feel, though. It will never understand why you act the ways you do because it has never had to look up and see what it has for itself.

The stars and the moon look down at you with great joy. They show their love with the light they give, but they don't know how envious you are of their holder, the sky. You've spent nights lying on the sand with the stars and the moon, but the sky is always there. You spend all your nights outside, looking up, wishing you had what the sky had. All you have is the desert; the desert with its sifting and shifting sands, blistering days and frigid nights.

You wonder if the sky could be jealous of you. It is always there when you are there. Could it be that the sky wishes it were you? Spending its time on the ground, wishing that the sand was his. Maybe it dreams of watching its breath roll into the cold desert nights. Maybe it is tired of looking down at the ground and wishes it could already be down, like you wish to be up.