Matthew was dehydrated, unable even to cry or sweat, and the heat was unbearable despite the wintry season. He had always known the desert was tricky, a barren landscape stretched to the infinite with the few wild species continuously fighting over the scanty remains they could find, whether animal or human. Boundless and endless, confusing and dismaying, its golden carpet, however, had something magic about it with the wind's alluring whispers and the dunes rolling suavely that dismayed the senses and made it irresistible to the point that all dangers turned into a wondrous appeal… Many were those who for one reason or the other ventured upon it.

Among them was Matthew, a poor shepherd, who after losing his sheep to a storm, had become a thief. No big stuff, only the necessary for survival, but enough to get the law after him. Now he was on the run.

Since morning, there was a strange shimmering in the air, the dust was sparkling, the mist glittering… He sensed something was about to happen, whether good or bad he didn't know.

The guy was totally lost, unable to track his position. His compass had disappeared and now he was helplessly roaming in an invisible maze with no way out.

How far did he go? Despite the journey started long ago, he felt as if proceeding in slow motion. Something odd was going on.

Was he being punished for his mischievous deeds? Guilt was slowly crawling upon him like one of those slimy reptiles snaking along the sandy furrows.

Exhaustion had taken over and his eyes had reddened. An uncommon translucency veiled the landscape that had gained the consistence of a vision, a blurred image as all visions, hard to bring into focus. The surroundings kept their sly unreality in the reduced visibility and the sun apparently, was unwilling to die and let the nightly stars pave the skyline.

He threw himself upon the sand and wondered how long he would resist.

Surely, he would die soon, buried by the windswept sand, his body a dusty heap in the arid stretch where only his bones would stick out once the vultures had devoured the flesh.

Only when darkness had prevailed did he distinguish an unfamiliar glow from a star. Never had he seen such a marvel. The radiance that pierced his eyes couldn't keep him from staring at it.

Inexplicably, he felt illuminated, for a sudden splendor fell upon the spot where he was lying.

Parallel to Matthew's march was the Magi's one, three men riding towards what was a medley of dream and wonder, a heavenly miracle with something of the infinite and the eternal about it under the scintillating bodies that inhabit the sky and intrigue the eye.

The guy discerned the camel train in the distance and leapt up to see it better.

As the Magi got closer, he caught sight of their sumptuous even if outdated attire. Damasked robes, embroidered capes and the crowns on the heads suggested they were very powerful men, perhaps kings. They were carrying chests certainly full of gold.

Matthew was bewildered as they seemed to come out of nowhere. It was clear they were following the star…

Suddenly, he also lost the sense of time… What age was he living in? He once heard of three men like those he was beholding, but it happened long, long ago…

A trick of his imagination, nothing more, yet the image kept moving on before him… steady, forward, apparently drawn by a silent, irrevocable call, their compass, the star.

The camels, the big lips curled in a slight smile, dug their padded feet in the sand slowly, calmly, as though familiar with the path they were following.

The apostle called Matthew mentioned a journey of the Wise Men, also a star… that, too, long, long ago…

He reported their words, 'We saw his star in the East and have come to worship him…'

Could it be the same folks and star? His supposition worried him. How could he be so foolish? Yet there was something about the image that appeared real or at least so close to it as if arising from the liminal point between reality and the wondrous… but wasn't it normal out there?

Whatever, the thought he and the saint shared the name made him smile; perhaps, now they were sharing something more. The nature of coincidences is so unknown, so indefinite…

Probably, he should follow that luminosity as well.

Matthew rose his eyes, the star was majestic, adamant in its brilliance.

Much to his surprise, the train was now moving away from the desert…

With his last strength, he marched after them as they headed towards greener pastures, his eyes shifting from the Magi to the star, his steps following theirs.

An unusual excitement got hold of him, kindled by the febrile wait of something unknown, but surely wonderful, magnificent, as though he had been touched by a divine bliss.

His senses hadn't betrayed him.

Was that also the path of redemption? The urge to redeem himself had never been stronger. He might work as a stable boy or on some farmers' fields and make amends for the wrong he had done. He'd do anything to get his integrity back.

Fatigue had suddenly abandoned him, and he would have followed the camel train forever, wherever; his soul now ready for the miracle of miracles.

And the Magi proceeded and the star moved ahead of them, until it stood right above a manger where a new-born baby was lying. There, with faces brightened by the most joyous smile, they stopped, descended their camels and knelt down, iconic figures of honor and worship, before the mightiest king of all and offered him their precious gifts.

The immortal had become mortal to shed hope and peace to men of good will and Matthew now ranked among them. He had taken part in their journey, a timeless and spiritual wandering of the heart and soul and considered himself blessed for such a privilege.

At once, he felt shifted back in his time. It didn't matter when the journey occurred for its mystifying telling of the beauty of love and adoration was ongoing.

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