Host: The stuff of legends
Guest: A hole in the universe.
Voice: Shaper of visions
Chorus of the Wind, Sun, and Stars: Bringers of vision
Shadow: A poorly kept secret
(Dark stage. A candle burns in the center, surrounded by pillows. Host sits between them, both legs crossed, one hand above the flame.)
Guest: Why does he do that?
Voice: It helps him breathe, and he has conversations with it.
Guest: Doesn't he burn?
Voice: If he chose, he could touch the fire, or swallow it, and feel nothing. It only burns because he allows it to do so; and never at his own expense. He takes heat into himself, through it.
Guest: That's why he isn't wearing a shirt?
Guest: I can't see very well, but it looks like he doesn't have any eyes—
Voice: Or ears.
Guest: That's what I thought. I'm sorry, I don't know what to say.
Voice: Who brought you here?
Guest: A friend. He said this was his brother, but I don't believe him. He lies all the time, and he doesn't live here, anyway.
Voice: Where is he now?
Guest: In front of me—or that's what I thought, but he came inside before I opened the door, and now he's gone. I thought you were him, but your voices are different, so it can't be.
Voice: Where were you before?
Guest: Visiting someone, I think, but I don't remember who. Then I found my friend—but I don't remember who he was.
Voice: Do you forget like this often.
Guest: (Shakes head.) Never.
Voice: Come forward so he can see you. It's dark, and you might find your friend also, in the walls, or perhaps beneath a floorboard.
Guest: I'm not worried. (Takes that step.) I didn't know him very well. If he doesn't come back, that's his choice, and I don't care enough to find him.
(Host raises one hand. Guest pauses.)
Guest: I thought he couldn't hear me, or see me either.
Voice: But he can feel you, and well. Take another step.
(He does. Host takes his hand. Wind, Sun, and Stars emerge, running with hands raised. They tumble, and cartwheel, and scream, tossing objects into the air: confetti, silver disks, etc.)
Wind: The soul moves above ocean, elongating over long rocks—
Sun: But soon discovers that ocean made of furious light: a distant light; brotherhood of stars—
Stars: Between them spreads a place where nothing moves, the forgotten spaces—
Wind: Of quiet, and cold, and wind—
Sun: Nothing can exist within them, the frozen space—
Stars: Of time unmoving; of life unmoving; of verve and circle unmoving.
(A light shines. They dance a moment longer—without music, but continuing to howl—and disappear. Host lets go of the hand.)
Voice: What do you feel?
Voice: One must compensate for the gifts fate declines. But not everyone can.
Guest: I know.
Voice: If you saw him somewhere—in a store perhaps—what would you say to him?
Guest: I'm not sure.
Voice: If he needed your help—say he'd fallen, and there was no one to pick him up—would you give it?
Guest: I'd try, if I could.
Voice: But not very hard.
Guest: I didn't say that.
Voice: Some things go unspoken. That doesn't prevent them from being true.
(Guest takes a step back.)
Voice: Have you wondered why he needs the candle? You must have.
Voice: You can't see inside, but he doesn't have any lungs either. The candle helps him breathe.
Guest: I said this before, but I'm sorry.
Voice: You aren't. Not really. It's easy to pretend, and make declarations, but inside, where the spirit is, you feel nothing of sympathy.
Guest: I've come, haven't I?
Voice: Your head hangs like a string from a balloon. It doesn't work very well.
Guest: I can't see you. (Host turns his head.) Why aren't you visible?
(Shadow emerges—from one of any locations, it hardly matters—to stand between them. The audience hears the voice of the Wind, Sun, and Stars; perhaps sees them dancing.
(Lights dim. The candle goes out.)