A Debris In A Stellar


As I walk the shadow becomes foreboding upon me. I gaze to the sky and the blue one has lost its color. What a breezy night. I can see air comes out from my nose.

Where are the stars? I think they were all destroyed by the city's blinding light. All I can see just the moon. Alone, she sometimes hides behind the clouds. The scars written on her tells of a thousand years story.

Did she suffer? Did she cried when each and every scar carved upon her body? Have she become traumatized by those inflicting wounds?

I wonder if she hides from the sun. The feeling of the unworthy -- the feeling of becoming someone; a failure, a betrayer; A shattered hope in a lucid dream. Are those scars shied her away?

She might be hiding from the sun because the light reveals the scars. It makes her unpretty. An ugly duckling sitting there, enthroned with a prince charming. Oh, how unsightly it is. How unworthy of her to be pair with a man of perfect.

I wish I could understand this.

Her sun is always there, shines. Burn himself up without regret. Becoming the best of he could be. Be a proud man that worthy of her love. Burns more of his life so that the light shower his beloved one, embodies her with the shimmering of glory.

This... I don't know much. But, I beginning to understand. Is she feel jealous?

Even in a mutual feeling, one sided love exists. Why can only the sun gives her the light? Can't she be doing that also? Can't she be the strength also? It's not fair that she is the only that receive salvation.  Sun, can't I do something for you?

Or, might be the ego of an everlasting existence yearning for something original out of her. This light ain't hers. Yes, it was given, but it wasn't from her. It was someone else.

She feel like a con artist stripping a beautiful muse from her beloved. "I can do better than that. I am special. I too have power," perhaps that what she told herself in the mirror at the waking night. The lonesome night might have harshly questioned her of her value.

Sun, have you realized the storm raging on her heart? Have you seen the fear upon her mind? Have you ever asked her?

There is nothing wrong with becoming the best. It is a good reason to become perfect. You, making her special, is a beautiful intention. So pure that I don't even have the courage to tell you....

To tell you that you are wrong.

She really needs her sun to shine. She does in fact blessed by your light. Oh, how many of us fascinating by the radiance of her light. Of how she made the mood right; making many scenes of love story. How many times we gaze upon her and inspired by her beauty.

Many travellers would have thank her. In many solemn night, that radiance guide us. This cold suddenly becoming bearable. The hope of tommorow suddenly change into a fleeting feeling of lingering the moment in forever. She is the light of the night, the goddess of hope.

You made her goddess. You made her special. You made her obsessed. You made her lonely.

She could never return from the night. Already too many souls cling unto her. Too many... so many... died of not being with her. The world caved in around her. For survival, for the existance of a few tens of years.

I wish I could tell you to take away the light. So that she could be set free. So that she could start all over again. So that she could fall into you without ever bound with the earth.

Ah, I am one of the soul. I can't do that. I'd die. I know I am selfish. Forgive me, Sun.

But, I feel sorry for both of you.

I wish you could just see her once in a while. Let her be the form she originally created, a big rock in the sky. I wish in her undeserving, naked and jealous form -- a body made of all the imperfects of this world -- you could stare her with passionate eyes.

If I were you, I would say, "you are the one that perfect my life." That sentence is not a lie, so you should not feeling guilty. There is not a part of that sentence that exaggerating.

What the use of a sun if it lights on an empty space? What are the reason for you to burn away your life? What would it be if you are nothing but a cold pitch black unmoving thing sitting there on the sky? Don't your making her your raison d'ĂȘtre made you this far?

I wish I could meet you both and tell you the other part. I wish I could be the one that settles this irrational condition. Both of you are made for each other. Both of you complete each other. Each of you need one and another.

The night is getting colder. And I could see the moon trying to hide again behind the clouds. She still with her romantic melody, alone, trying to make the night blissfull. I guess she is meant to be with the night.

There was a time when I could see the sun rushed the morning to meet her. There was a time when she linger her return just to see the day where the sun is. However, not a word crossed, not a tiny gesture made, nor any of the sign of interactivity been made when they met. Each meeting just a passing by.

Moon, Sun, why are you so stubborn?

Then again, I don't know. I am not the moon nor the sun. I am just a man here, standing in the night. As I could tell, I am nothing but a passerby in this million years romance.

---

Inspired by "Dear Esther" the game and the Ost.

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