The Sun and the Moon

I came across this story the other day.  On the surface it’s a story about the Sun loving the Moon.  On a more deep level it’s a story about the sacrafices that each of may be asked to make throughout our lives.  Are you willing to sacrafice personal happiness for the greater good?  Those who have greatness within them, who aren’t content with the ordinary,  who want to help humanity achieve the next step must always be aware of this: what burden they bear and the cost of following their own heart.

“Tell me the story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much he died every night just to let her breath.” She asked.

“once during a time when the earth was simple, the Sun shone brighter than anything. The people were grateful and rejoiced every time the Sun shone. He brought them joy and warmth, he was even the source of their warmth.

But he was lonely, all by himself in the vast skies. He would look down at the people dancing in his radiance and wonder if he was simply destined to a life of solitarily. That was the price he paid for being the brightest, he reasoned.

Then there was the Moon. As the Sun grew weary and began to disappear she would rise into the sky, flanked by millions of stars. Her radiance was a sad kind of beauty, one that went unnoticed as the people slept. The Stars watched her with woefulness, hoping that one day they could get close enough so she wouldn’t feel so empty. But they couldn’t. The Moon was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness through the cold nights.

Until one day when the Sun was sliding out of the heavens, he caught a glimpse of her. She was peeking up, a rare side of her being exposed to the light. And while the Sun could shine, he knew the Moon could glow, and a faithful whisper trumped an arrogant shout any day.

So just as the Stars were wandering into the night, the Sun fell in love like a snowball hurdling down a mountain. How he wished to see her more than the fleeting moments he shared with her at both dawn and dusk. But the Moon was untouchable. Uncurable. Unfreeable.

“Go,” she whispered to him one of those nights, her voice as sweet and sorrowful as the last light of morning, “Go and let me breathe, for you and I have decided fates. You illuminate the day, and I cast a glow on the night. We will never be. Our connection would go against what all people believe, all they know.” During the summer he would stay a little longer just in case she would change her mind. It was no use.

“Don’t you dare abandon your blessing of light for my darkness.” Those were the last words the Moon was strong enough to speak to the Sun, ” I responded.