The Sun Loved The Moon

Across the ballroom and amongst the stars, we met. Our eyes, for a few moments, connected by a spark, before it was broken, their focus returning to the conductor. However, I could not look away. Their beauty silenced the music, reducing it to nothing but a muffled hum, their eyes, fierce with passion, were unrivalled by the other musicians. Their fingers gracefully glided up and down the instrument, crafting the strings and the notes on the page into melodies which told stories, far beyond the simplicity of the human imagination. The moon shone so brightly among the sky of stars. Amid the lights, Cupid fired his arrow.

But it was not meant to be, it was a weapon of desire, not love. It ruptured my stable, beating core, never to be healed. How could we possibly be together? True love at first sight is nothing but the dreams of a child, too naive to understand their love is for their beauty, not their person. If, under some miraculous circumstance, we departed the ball hand in hand, it would have only been a matter of time before our weak flame flickered and died. So, content I was, watching and listening from afar, for the rest of the evening.

Perhaps I feel regret. Perhaps I feel relieved. Perhaps I feel conflicted. Nevertheless, I must move on. I must forget you, erase you from my heart and from my mind. No use will come to me to hope for the impossible. No use will come to me to hold onto a bleeding heart. It may be that one day we will meet again and I will be granted the opportunity to speak to you, but I wish such a time will never come. I could not lose my moon again.

I have been told by many to not look into the sun, as its rays will blind you, so I never looked up. But when the clouds of fabric, lace and ruffles parted, I could only look away and up at them. How could one's dark and defined features radiate the room? How could one appear so relaxed and reserved, yet completely entrap my attention? How could one appear so blindingly stunning that I could not look away? How can such beauty exist and I am forbidden to look at it? A complex question, but a single, simple, soul-crushing answer. I am outshone within the crowd. Such perfection exists too far beyond my reach, my soul too dim for them to light. So I must play on for my love, and so I must play on for my heartbreak.

The Sun loved the Moon, and the Moon loved the Sun. But they could not love one another.