Once in primordial skies Moon was naughty younger brother to elder and sincere Sun.
One night wan after midnight shenanigans the Moon-boy accidentally slipped on wet grass and tumbled down the meadow straight into a thicket replete with vinous climbers!
It was nearing dawn, he’s pale with exhaustion, so leaves covered the poor boy protecting him from enquiring gusts of wind. Enchanted, tendrils too tried to curl around the silvery orb but failed royally, courtesy mercury-textured skin and his perfect roundness!
Broad leaves nestled the bruised and battered boy who dozed off wearily.
When dawn broke, sunbeams invaded the forest with a seething Sun-his sunshine searchlight on High-Intensity-Mode, but vines grew closer, buds tickled by sunlight bloomed into broad flowers covering the tiniest gaps of the arbour!
Day was safely spent, however, at gloaming a soft milky glow started to ooze out from the sleeping boy; climbers were amazed; he opened his eyes splashing water from a nearby book and lo, turned a pure milky white! The sylvan surroundings were awed by his sheer beauty, realising gloomily that he- who’s so bright, can’t be hidden forever.
They parted their branches to let him go.
The boy beamed! Running with characteristic naughtiness, jumping high, perching on the highest bough of a tall deodar!
He looked down at the shy tiny bower where everyone had cared for him with selfless love and hadn’t captivated him as they didn’t want to chain his beauty, his virtue.
The leaves of the arbour, tendrils and vines, tiny new born buds and surrounding flora, were looking up at him with tears of evening-dew shimmering on their cheeks, his eyes welled up and he felt at crossroads.
He bounced into the sky where his tenebrous mother hugged him chiding gently with a mild lightening smack; he snuggled into her cloudy bosom but comfort evaded him; his heart was heavy, tears rolled down on his argent cheeks.
It was his first taste of dilemma, of being on crossroads.
That night, earth experienced a sober moon who went on waning until on the 15th night, he vanished entirely!
On the 6th night from that Depressive Disappearing Act of Dilemma, Sun reflected in the matter- Moon brightened-up a little.
By the 13th night, Moon had enough and he caressed the bower with his pudgy dimpled hands.
On 15th, he embraced the forest with deepest gratitude, nurtured by the purity of which, broken branches healed, hard-barked dried-up trees got mushy making shrivelled cells replete with fluids and sap- creating resins, oils, scents…seeds and saplings exploded out of Earth’s crust watching the unfolding nyctic mysteries with bewilderment, their cotyledons agape!
Their mirth flowed through woodlands with an unchained melody of nyctophilia through cavernous alleys of earth, making climbers erupt in ecstatic blooms: white, fragrant, glowing – the first night-flowers Ever, tiny replicas of the Opal Moon!
From then every night, night-flowers bloom for their moon-boy, then die peacefully with every sunrise.
Dawn witnesses this celestial-crossroad daily- moon’s tears strewn on grass, known as- dewdrops.
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