oh, and the sun, he is so beautiful.
his skin is golden brown, his face is covered in freckles, and every scar on his body grows darker under his own light.
his own light, that he stands in so long you'd think at some point it must burn, but no. he is warm and his heart is a ball of lava and you can't quite look him in the face or it hurts, doesn't it?
he shines through the day and embraces everyone even if they can't quite bear to embrace him back
but the sun, he is so deeply in love with the moon. Everyone is. they're beautiful, aren't they?
natural hair as dark as night, and peachy skin soft and warm. warm, how? we're not sure. the light doesn't reach them. the sun, he is cold to the touch.
but that star, that burns so brightly and holds a whole solar system in his grasp just loves the moon so much. he cannot even be mad that everyone stares, adores, and makes art of them. he is right alongside the people, staring as well.
there's no point to this. the universe will make many more suns and moons. each sun and moon could have several different perfect pairings. these two will die and come back and die again and you won't even notice because someone else will replace them, but they're still fundamentally the same.
light and dark. fire and water. rage and melancholy. yin and yang. you are staring at the sun, the sun is staring at the moon, and the moon is staring at you. and they need you, earth. don't they? you're how they met and fell in love.
I think I'm going to go out soon, and I'll make sure you don't see it. I'll be okay
