The Sun Was Jealous

I take whatever chance I can to look into the sky and observe what mischief goes on there.  Recently I saw an example of waywardness that could only be described as shocking.

That particular day, the sun was frosted and white.  In an act of sheer lunacy, he was trying to disguise himself as the moon, his cold, glittering rival. He had discarded his burnished glow and in a fit of pique had denied the earth his radiance.  He didn't feel like setting in a bath of colors – no.  He was tired of his dreary afternoons, hanging alone in an empty blue arc; or of having his golden face swathed in capricious clouds, ready to take flight at the merest tickle of wind.

He envied the moon so many things – her starry handmaidens, arrayed around her like a crown floating in the sky; her opaque glow, her cool grace of pearls.  He had grown weary of his heat, and the sweat on his brow.  The people, so far below, would never look at him, and it was depressing.  He wished he could change shapes, become a half, a quarter, a crescent…crescents which were carved out of gems and worn in ladies' hair, crescents which were embroidered into Diana's cloak as she hunted across the sky of shadows.

The sun was jealous.  He wanted the moon's authority – she controlled the tides, the oceans of the world.  She could catch the waves in her illuminated net and pull them onto shore; or she could demand that the water be patient and wait for her call.  The moon had the feminine audacity to cross the path between sun and earth; so he would merely flare in futility around her eclipsing edges.  She even exerted a strange power over human women every month.

The moon cascaded across the sky.  She paraded in a shining orbit, bowing in front of a black curtain made bright by galaxies, planets and stars.  The sun felt immobile and foolish, wavering slightly on his axis, condemned to be an undefined and stationary glare.

So on that day, the sun decided to make the bold move and steal the moon's pale robes, hoping that no one would notice.  I did.

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11 responses to “The Sun Was Jealous

  1. Now I'm feeling quite sorry for the sun. I will try to wave his way more often. To sneak a safe peek at him and give him a smile! :)Thanks for this!

  2. I think I should wait a while – he's in a very grumpy mood, and your good wishes might not be appreciated. Wait till he cools off.
    Oh.

  3. Brilliant as always. Love the images you selected as well! I love old tarot cards. Love new ones too, for that matter.

  4. I'm not ashamed to say – well, maybe I am, a little – that it took me hours to find the perfect images to go with this post. These two cards are from the Marseilles tarot deck, dated around the 16th century.

  5. …and then, the moon broke into a chorus of you light up my life
    just to help the sun feel better about himself…

    loved the piece!

  6. like a chariot ride through a myth, a tale spun by an imaginative weaver by window late one night.

  7. I never thought of it that way, as the sun stealing the moon's authority. And, of course, sometimes the moon launches an offense.

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