Man in the Moon

It was a night to remember and the Moon was full.

The full Moon shone with reflected radiance and gazed down upon its planet like a parent peering down at its sleeping baby. Content with being present and the sight of what it cared for the most in all the world.

All the world.

A blue planet that brought forth and nurtured life. 

A rare and precious jewel in the infinite cosmos.

The Moon was the luckiest of Moons.

A witness to the birth of life and ever present as that life grew and transformed into billions of unique miracles.

This Moon had seen much and more, it could never get enough of the show the world provided.

This Moon had a face and the face was of a wise elder. Some said it was a man, but at the age the Moon was, gender had become an irrelevance a long, long time ago. The Moon just was and it intended to continue being for as long as it possibly could.

Every night was different. That was how the Moon saw things. The Moon was never bored with the show playing out before it. 

It was all about perspective, and of course the Moon made appearances during the day too. The Moon’s life was not a simple binary existence of light and dark, black and white or night and day. The Moon did not waste time with such distinctions. The Moon was a part of everything and it was everything. 

It belonged. 

It belonged in the same way that a heart belongs in a body. It didn’t make sense anywhere else and found this existence to be full of both contentment and wonder.

But the misbehaving clouds were a problem.

The chaotic clouds had always been a source of frustration for the Moon. However serene the Moon was, the uncooperative clouds could always spoil things and cause an upset. These callous and cruel clouds were an interference to the Moon’s view. An unwanted disruption to its day.

The Moon did not think vanity played a part to this frustration, but it could not be entirely sure. Much thought had been expended by the Moon as it mulled the nature of both its frustration and its existence. The Moon wanted to see its world and when it was thwarted in this endeavour it felt a great deal of disappointment. 

The problem the Moon wrestled with was that the cantankerous clouds were a reminder of the Moon’s disjointed position in the fortunes of the world. It bore witness and it cared for every piece of life on that world, but here it was in the expanse of space, not quite a world away, but as far as the life on the planet was concerned, it was as near as could be, or rather as far away as it was possible to be. 

A tiny impossibility hanging in the sky and gazing down upon the world with its unchangingly sad face.

Deep down, the Moon yearned for more. The Moon wanted to be the world that it had gazed upon for so long it could not recall anything else. The Moon had never seen its reflection and so the world was what it was. It wondered whether the world felt the same way, but the answer to that was it didn’t. It was too busy with its life to bother all that much with the dead Moon.

The Moon began to realise that it wanted a life of its own.

The rude clouds added to the Moon’s woes, closing the curtains and keeping the Moon at bay. Excluding the Moon from the party. A party that was full of life and fun.

You’re not invited and you can’t come in.

To make matters worse, the Moon held some sway with the world. The Moon had control of the vast bodies of water. The Moon wasn’t just a witness, it really was a part of everything it saw before it, but still the intransigent clouds shut it out.

The Moon could muster a mighty and formidable army of water that could rock the world and yet the uncaring clouds defied it. The Moon was the master of the oceans, but the hateful skies closed ranks and reminded the Moon that it was an outsider and that it was not welcome.

So, the Moon spoke to the Sun and asked it for its help.

“Those damnable clouds are wayward and they interrupt my view of the world, can you help me to banish them?” asked the Moon.

The Sun laughed a haughty and powerful laugh that annoyed the Moon, but the Moon kept quiet. It did not do to anger the Sun. The Sun was quick to anger but slow to forget those who had angered it.

“The world needs the clouds,” the Sun told the Moon, “why would you have me do anything about them?”

“I have seen you…” began the Moon, but then it ceased its words having said too much already.

“That is different,” said the Sun guardedly.

The Sun burnt away the clouds when it was so minded. The Sun could casually burn them away like they were so much fluff and nonsense. The Sun had an array of planets around it, but the Moon’s world was its favourite and just like the Moon, the Sun liked to look upon the life of the world, life that it helped to create and sustain.

“Then what can I do?” asked the Moon, a hint of desperation creeping into its voice.

“Be patient,” said the Sun, then it took pity on the Moon, “listen to me and listen well, from time to time I will lend you a hand, but never forget that you have time and you have power. You may not control the clouds themselves, but you do have sufficient control to affect them. Time and patience, my friend! Time and patience!”

The Moon had thanked the Sun and gone about using its power to change the weather. This didn’t always guarantee a clear view to the world below, but it gave the Moon hope and it also gave the Moon something to occupy itself with and that helped the Moon to see that the clouds were not so very bad after all. 

The Sun was also true to its word and would from time to time help the Moon with the wayward clouds, opening the curtains to the stage and allowing the Moon to watch the play it had one of the best seats to.

And so time passed and the world turned.

Today was different though.

Today was a day like no other.

The terrible clouds had found a new and more sinister way to block the Moon’s view, now they blocked the view so totally the world before the Moon was transformed into a dark orb. Gone were the white and sometimes fluffy clouds and instead there were clouds that wore robes of dark grey and black. These clouds wore thick and full robes and there were no gaps and not a promise of a break in the cloud cover to come.

“Help!” cried the Moon beseeching the Sun to come to its aid, “please burn away these ghastly clouds.”

“I cannot,” said the Sun ominously.

“Why not?” asked the Moon.

“Did you not see the fires?” asked the Sun.

“I…” began the Moon, “was that what I saw? The huge orange illuminations?”

“Yes,” the Sun told the Moon, “and these are not the clouds you had your ongoing spat with. These are something very, very different.”

“If these are not the dastardly and belligerent clouds that have fought with me for these past millennia, then what are they?” asked the Moon.

“The dust and ash from a burnt and dying world,” the Sun told the Moon.

“No!” the Moon exclaimed, “you have to do something to stop this! Burn those clouds away! You have to stop this right now!”

“I cannot burn what is already burnt,” the Sun told the Moon.

This was not entirely true. Both the Sun and the Moon knew this. The Sun could burn anything and everything. The Sun could look upon a thing and make it nothing in the next instant. The Moon knew that what the Sun meant was that there was nothing to be done, that it was powerless to do anything to help right now. This was beyond the both of them. All they could do was bear witness to the death of the life that they had so delighted in.

“But without you…” the Moon began.

“What life remains will freeze,” the Sun finished the Moon’s thought.

“What will we do?” asked the distraught Moon.

“What we can,” said the Sun.

“But…” began the Moon.

The Moon felt this overwhelming wave of sadness wash over it. Contained within that wave was something like loneliness, for however far away the Moon had been from the life on its world, however aloof it had seemed, the Moon knew that it was seen and that it was revered. The Moon had looked down upon the world and the life on the world had returned that gaze. That life dared to dream and the Moon was the focus of those dreams.

Now all of that was gone and the Moon was bereft. That loss was too much to bear. The Moon was diminished by that loss and it hurt so much.

The Sun looked upon the Moon and pitied the small rock and the grief it was experiencing. The Sun liked to think it was above such things, but the truth was that it hurt the Sun too. Seeing the Moon hurt helped the Sun somehow, and not just because the Sun could pretend that the hurt was all the Moon’s.

“Look after what you do have and do not lament what could have been,” the Sun told the Moon.

“But all of that life…!” cried the Moon.

“Life that you coveted as you stared down upon the world,” the Sun told the Moon. “Don’t think I didn’t see that. But look! Here they are. You now have what you always wanted. They are on their way to you in their ships that trail my fire. You will have your wish at long last.”

“How can I do this? I am only a moon,” wailed the Moon.

“I will help,” the Sun promised the Moon, “besides, they are stubborn and strong and they will find a way.”

“And if they don’t?” asked the Moon.

“It’s high time they learnt,” said the Sun sternly, “I’m getting fed up with having to start all over again. This time might be their last.”