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When did the sun grow a will? When did it start to feel? To trust? To love? and to live?. It was a spectacle, The flame incarnate, the centre of it all. And behind all that, the dark took the place of the light, the whisper in the void. When did the moon start to lose consciousness? When did it start to numb? To doubt? To hate? And to diteriorate?
Oh how envious the moon was, everything the sun wasn’t, it craved the spotlight, it wanted to also be adored, to be seen as the cause of life, to be realized. Every time it rose, taking the suns spot, waiting to be witnessed in its true grace, life sees it as a time to ignore, a time to fall into slumber and skip its reign in the world, oh how it would do anything to be like the sun—seen as the cause of life and creation with everyone enjoying and basking in its radiance.
It was only a pretender, a failed version of the light, stealing its glow and calling it, its own, a ghost of what could’ve been, only bringing fear and darkness to the world and bringing confusion and aimlessness for all life. It is a simple obstacle for all living beings, a burden for the better to carry, whilst the sun bathed in praise and affection, the moon bathed in despair and nothingness.
But without the dark, the light can never flourish. Without the cycle of cooling in the flames, all will end in ash. Even the brightest things can be the most sickening after a while, yet it does not understand that.
Overtime, the dark grew impatient, grew resentful, and far too envious for its own good. It desired change, it wanted to be recognized, to also feel and be appreciated. It vowed that one day—life will finally open their eyes to the beauty of the dark.
So the dark and light held an unbreakable resolve that every 18 months, they would overlap with each-other. Breaking the cycle and harmonizing, so that finally, at last, people would look at the dark too, as a true spectacle and not as a misfortune to the lands, like a coin landing on both sides, even if just for a glimpse of time.