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I see years flicker and calander pages turn like a book written by the wind. I see you and me divided on two paths like two subway trains heading in opposite directions in the morning traffic. The mesmerizing blurr of all the people, and the amazingly diversity of mankinds' love. But not everyone's happy.

 

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A narrator begins to tell a story. A story about two paths where one heart got separated into two.

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Before the light shone upon the moon, she felt insecure and lost. Because all the stars were so far away, like a far-fetched dream out of her reach. And in her growing hole of emptiness she didn't find any answers fit to her belief. She wandered the night sky for years with the wearingly hole within.

She feared dawn for the light was so unfamiliar to her, but at the same time indescribably beautiful. She wanted to peek over the horizon, just to get a glimpse of what might be there. After all, she was curious. And one late morning she decided with all her efforts, to withdraw all agony her solitude had made her suffer from during all those cold dark nights.

And over the hilltop she saw, what was always within her, even though she never had the guts to believe it - a tiny little sun. And so she unclenched herself from the misery and loneliness of her own chains, and embraced the suns warmth with open arms.

 

Time flew by, and the secret lovers remained intact. Seasons changed and winds arose, but their love was solid, and they drifted along the clouds and sang over the mountains and let flowers bloom in their name. It was a time and an era of joy and late shimmery nights in the bathing summer sun. They enjoyed their innocence and cried for time to pledge at their will. But the wind had great wit, and a soft breeze soon began to whistle over the hills.

It caught the suns lungs when he breathed, and filled him with regretful thoughts. And the sun didn't rose that high anymore on that timeless sheet by which the lovers some many nights had been staring at in complete silenced trust and comfort.

And he understood that the forrest sometimes needs a fire to annihilate what once was, in order to attain wisdom and to fully again, prosper in the light. And for all this time that he'd been spending with his soulmate, his hole of awareness had been shrinking. And his life had lost a significant part. By what or by who, he couldn't answer. For there wasn't any. The rain doesn't need a reason to understand its own existance, and need not to be translated. For the translation is lost in the trying matter of using words. It lies in the meaning behind the words, in between of the letters. Not in the fully compressed sentence.

So the sun left his moon. Without any goodbyes, for how could he ever tell her something like that. Saying goodbye to your own heart is the hardest thing anyone can do, and it takes tremendous courage to deny your own soul. To split your soul in two. The sun left the moon in the shadows, while he stood alone. He left while she cried but he didn't look back. But what the moon never understood, and never saw thereafter, was that every night the sun shone with all his majesty and with all his might from the other side of the hill, just to never completely leave his other soul fragment and to let the love of his life, shine at all her best, at all times, throughout space and time.

 

For she was the love of his life, and therefore, he let her go.