Long ago, at the beginning of everything, was the sun: mighty and powerful, worshiped and adored. He presided proudly over his realm while the universe seemingly revolved around him. People loved the sun. They enjoyed his light and basked in his heat. Everything the sun happened upon, his energy would transform. He was everything. Yet his heart was blue, for he had never experienced for himself the sensation of someone else’s warmth. He’d never had anyone take his own darkness away.
As for the moon, well, she had grown weary of roaming the nights, looking for somewhere she could feel home. She was an odd-looking thing. Her scarred and pallid complexion meant she went largely unnoticed, wandering alone amongst billions of stars; not a single one knowing the name of the love she was capable of. So tired was the moon, of carrying the constant weight of her solitude, that she retreated even further away from those who could not recognise her worth. But the moon had a beauty and power within her that could move oceans – there was nobody else like her. Yet she was invisible.
One morning, a little earlier than usual, while the sun was deleting the border of the night, he happened to glance up above the horizon. There, he saw her. This strange creature: awkward and uncomfortable. And in that instant he was enchanted: beguiled by her particular air of intriguing sadness. Yet it was something far more wonderful – something that he would perhaps never be able to name – that truly captivated him.
Day after day they waited – at the break of dawn or the fall of night – just for a moment with each other. The very way she lit up when he looked at her: there were no words he knew to adequately convey that feeling, in that moment. The moon was a mirror reflecting back to him something that he hadn’t ever seen. He had never been shown how incredibly beautiful his own light could be or the power he had to make something illuminate so exquisitely. The sun offered her a love he hadn’t known himself capable of… but more than that, he felt love from the moon that he had never believed himself worthy of.
And the moon really did love him so. Wholly. Drowning in every last sunbeam that bathed her pale face: drinking him in as he brought her to life.
In those moments, they belonged only to each other.
For a time, the sun and the moon were happy together. They loved one another over long distances; enjoying brief encounters and snatched seconds, while gravity simultaneously kept them in orbit, then cruelly pulled them away again. But those beautiful moments were enough. A touch, a look, even at a distance, could communicate a whole lifetime’s worth of words, of love, of desire. They knew that their very natures meant their connection would forever be fleeting. But for the sun and the moon, distance and time paled into insignificance compared with the light and heat that filled their souls.
But soon the sun grew uneasy. He felt weakened and vulnerable at how much of himself he had already given over to the moon, unsure, every time they parted, if he would ever see her again. He wanted, with every part of himself, to surrender completely to her, but he knew he never could. Not for one so inconstant: not for one that drifted in and out of his life, as she did.
And the moon became impatient. She was suspicious of the sun’s refusal to defy the very force that had brought them together. She was hurt that he didn’t choose to remain in her embrace. It didn’t occur to her that, even if he wanted to, the sun could not prevent gravity from realising its will. But to her, it was just another rejection. And so, she retreated once more to protect her fragile heart.
The sun began to resent the moon for her lack of power; her lack of fight. She didn’t burn brightly, she only reflected him. This perceived weakness angered him. He wanted her to rage, to burn, to make her mark – to prove her love in the only way he understood. But that just wasn’t in her nature. She simply did not see love in the same way.
And to the sun, the moon was capricious: constantly changing her form…her mind…her heart. But she was as constant as anything ever could be. It was simply the view from where he looked; the position from which he shone, that made her appear different to the world.
With a sad inevitability, the sun and the moon realised that to defy gravity and to disregard their true natures was futile. They knew that love could not conquer all. It couldn’t overcome a force greater than itself – the insurmountable barriers that prevented their happily ever after. If they allowed it, love would simply conquer them; painful and destructive: taking up residence, occupying every last thought, leading to a life that didn’t honour their own purpose; their own souls.
So the sun and the moon accepted their fate and, with great sorrow, they said goodbye for the very last time.
But forever more, the moon would prove her constancy, in a way the sun would never come to know. She would love him, quietly, from afar knowing all hope was lost; knowing that the very force which had drawn him to her, the force that would keep her heart tethered to him, would be the one that would keep them forever apart.
Tell me of a love more impossibly beautiful than that.