He’d admired the sun for years, looking up each day to see her shining, brighter than anything else. But one day, the sun’s beautiful rays were not lighting up the gloomy day.

“Where are you?” he shouted at the empty sky. The only answer he received was rain splattering on his bare skin. A storm had taken possession of the sky, darkening the sun’s brilliant light.

“Sweet sun!” He cried. “I will wait for your triumphus return, because I have yet to see a day without you!”

The man waited there for hours, but the storm did not let up until nightfall. It was dark, and the man, heartbroken, for the one constant in his life was gone.

Then, he looked up, and saw something glistening among the stars.

“Oh, glorious moon!” He bellowed. The moon glowed brightly as if to reply. “I used to see the sun, but oh, beautiful moon! All I can see now is you!”

He watched the moon, entranced with her light and her presence beside the stars.

Morning came, and the moon was replaced with the smoldering sun.

“I’m sorry, dear sun, but I had thought you to be gone.” He whispered. He and the sun mourned each other, and when they were done, the man parted ways with the sun, on the search for the moon.

The man didn’t notice, but when he left, the once sacred sun was hardly glimmering.