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Sun and Moon

(a love story)

By Melanie TongmarPublished 2 months ago Updated 2 months ago 3 min read
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Sun and Moon
Photo by Mahdi Soheili on Unsplash

Long long ago, when time was timeless and our planet was just beginning to stir with life, the belt around the Earth formed and drew a line where the sun and moon could never meet. But one day, in one fated moment, the earth stood still and Sun collided with Moon bringing life to the world.

They both drew closer from either end of the sky that stretched like a yawn over the beach. That tender moment of dawn, that stirring chill of dusk - an indigo blanket where stars still shine as the horizon burns gold. A blanket thick with comfort, a womb of creation.

He was warm, she noticed. Liquid lava skin – he ran hot and made his desires known on impact. And he was bright, so bright – witty and charming and effervescent, his speech cutting to the chase, exacting, deliberate and purposeful.

She slid like silk from the cool shadows, the island breeze picking up her hair and he felt the tickle as it fluttered around her like a halo… stardust to the starlight, a whisper to the roar.

And she was luminous. A quiet mystery, her motives unknown, her eyes like pale saucers. She had many secrets and held them close to her heart, her words were few and she spoke in song - not a cheery tune, but words with weight and longing.

Her eyes glittered and they stared silently at each other, the waves swishing in anticipation, the sand hissing its malcontent, and they knew that this would be a story for the ages, that this would be where it all began.

He spotted a shell half buried in the sand. Its creamy, pink-lipped folds were swirling and large, so large in fact, that the wind's breath echoed through them as he held up the shell as an offering. The dull, earthy drone thrummed through the air heralding this moment when Sun and Moon were to become one.

Moon took the shell, her hands cupping it to her mouth and she blew, calling in the Spirit of the World. The crabs heard her trumpet sound, and now came scuttling toward her, an army entourage that parted in waves around her feet as she stepped forward. She could summon the creatures, just as Sun could will plants to grow and they did - the vines, plump with buds, curled out from the jungle, their fleshy tendrils reaching toward him, nourished by his warmth.

Both of them felt the wriggling potential of the warm ocean water. The crystal sand and black, fertile soil were bursting with promise and the seeds of life. They called to Sun and Moon to infuse them with the Spirit of the World, to make this tropical paradise bloom, to see what beauty they could create with the wet warmth of their embrace.

"But true beauty," Moon breathed, "can only be possible with great loss. With pain and suffering. There is no day without night."

And Sun cried. He knew this to be true, and he knew that the sacrifice would be given willingly and joyfully, that it was needed so that beauty didn't simply appease the eyes and senses, but that it would have meaning.

"There will be great love!" he whispered. "And there will be fear and war. And all things will age and die, and all things will hold the key to immortality that they may not know until life is all but sapped from their bones. This is the pain, this is the suffering they will endure to know the great beauty we will create".

And he held her, as far as she could be held, her elusive scent and watery laughter were difficult to grasp, so he shone as only a star can, and engulfed her in flame.

And, as Sun and Moon melted into each other, they reformed into two giant orbs, twirling around the planet in an elliptical dance of the cosmos, so that life and beauty could flourish in this tropical paradise, swelling out through the earth and sky - forever.

Nature
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About the Creator

Melanie Tongmar

Life in analog. Writer. Grower of things.

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