The Night The Moon Became Envious Part 1
During the summer, I used to lay alone on my back, staring towards the dark sky and stars that fill it, while the moon reflected enough light towards my eyes to allow me to appreciate the beauty from above. She used to purposely tilt and change the speed of her rotation to manipulate the tides surrounding this island; as the seawater clashed with the land, it somehow enabled enough waterdrops to travel to my destination and keep me cooled. The moon used to love me.
Then I brought you here to share my fascination with this enigma. To let her — the moon — bring you the same joys that she brought me. However, she refused. Instead, she sat there in rage, confused as to why I would ruin our alone time by allowing an extra party to attend our quiet moment.
I pleaded and I asked her — the moon — to allow you, my love, to share the same treatment that I have become accustomed to. But again, she refused. It couldn’t be helped, so me and you sat there and stared at the stars without her help. This only infuriated her further, with a passion that burnt so deep that she could have turned herself into a star that night; instead, it was spite that had risen in the dark sky.
She became so jealous that she covered the last of our dim light and left us alone in darkness; she does not like the fact that we were able to look at each other while ignoring her. Her jealousy weighed heavily and the icy moon dust that was placed on her lips, with one gentle blow, took a journey past the earth’s atmosphere. It made itself home in our presence, giving us a shiver that took a voyage from our longest strand of hair through to our most extended toenail. Her hatred grew so strong that she decided to travel from her comfortable residence to this green and blue sphere. She stood there, just above us, blocking the view of the stars beyond her, in hopes that she will be a constant reminder for the rest of the night that she is against us.
As the temperature within our surrounding begins to drop, I am not worried. The moon’s bitterness is not cold enough to slow my affection for you; all it has done is brought us closer together. At our most difficult time, we are able to heat up the presence that lays between and around us. Every touch is a passionate one and nothing burns better than two passionate bodies on a cold night.
What she does not realise is that those stars that burn above us — with a beauty that would distract even the Gods themselves as they admire their own creation — those same stars no longer catch my attention. How could they when your eyes are more radiant and glorious than the stars themselves? The stars may as well be invisible: the moon can remain there if she wishes. The stars do not interest me as much as it does the Gods, how could it when I am staring directly in the soul of my Goddess?
The hatred of the moon could never bother me: she could cover the northern hemisphere, leave us in complete darkness and I would not even flinch. What the moon does not realise is that you are my sunshine, my light, my beauty, my warmth and my biggest star. I revolve around you, after all, how could a single man like me, survive without you, the sun in his life?