There was once a boy who was much larger than all the other children in his town, which caused many of the townsfolk to deem him unfit for society. The older he grew, the larger he grew, and the townspeople soon began to protest his presence. His family was forced to let him go, and the people of the town charged the boy out the gates, telling him he was never to return.
The boy left the town, heading up and down the hills in only a step or two until he was so far that he could no longer see the town, at which point he ran twice as far as he had already. When he found the lowest valley in the land, he settled deep underneath the high mountains and rested his head on the curve of the earth. The night soon became day and the sun rose over the high mountains and shone in the boy's eyes, waking him with a stretch that spread a mile wide. The valley soon became the new home of the boy, where he sat watching the sky pass over and over again. He let the sky pass for so long that the boy soon became a man, somewhat, before he had even realized.
During his time watching the sky pass, the man began to love the moon. The moon was subtle and kind. Its touch was gentle and soft against the earth, and it made a range of colors from yellow, to red, to pink, that illuminated the land and twinkled in the white of the man's eyes. And as his love for the moon grew, the only thing that grew nearly as strong was his hate for the sun. Not only did the sun take the moon away from him, but the sun's shine was so bright that the man was unable to sleep or watch the sky, which left him with nothing but to miss the moon. And every time the sky passed and the sun went back behind the high mountains — leaving the soft glimmer of the man's true love back in the sky — he was reminded why he loved the night sky's spotlight just so much.
Sometimes the moon would go away for a night or two, but it always came back. And it always warned the man first. It would slowly fade away, giving less of itself as it had to concern itself more with its own objectives. But the moon would always come back to the man. It would come back just as it left, and it would always return in full, and even when the white of the sky turned a dark grayish-blue that camouflaged with the night sky and covered the moon, the moon's light was still far too bright not to reach the man. The shimmer would always stretch through the camouflaged gray, and that's how the man knew that the moon loved him back.
One night, the moon had just returned in full, and the man felt more strongly of its love than he ever had. So strongly, that he decided it was time for him to return to his home and tell the people of his love for the moon, for surely if the moon could love him, they could as well.
Upon returning to the town, the first thing the people did was murmur in awe at the immense size the man had grown to, and as he tried to explain the love he had found between him and the moon, and at first the people called him foolish, which he scoffed at, before the townsfolk began to grow aggressive. As he tried to explain that the moon had always returned to him, the people began to boo and chant over his explanation, and soon pieces of trash and debris were being thrown into his knees and shins, and a group of people that quickly grew larger, began to press their hands against the bottom of his legs and pushed him like a group of boys trying to move a stone much too big for them. The man wanted no more of their treatment, and he left the town to return to his valley and be with his true love.
The sky soon passed, and once again, there was his love, standing tall and bright, high in the shadowed sky, shining a bright yellow light like that of a light that was shining off of dead flesh. It filled the sky with an ugly yellow shimmer, and the man loved the way it reflected against his ugly yellow skin.
Once the sky passed, and the man was watching the moon float for behind the mountains, the man could not bear the idea of being without his love for an entire day after the events with the townsfolk, and before he even knew what he was doing, his feet were galloping under him with all the force in his tumbling massive legs, and in only three steps, he was up the high mountains, where he stood at the very peak, able to reach past the white of the sky, that was slowly losing its gray as the night went on and the dawn began. The man could see as far as he wanted in any direction, but he was so focused on his love that he never even noticed, and he placed his tippy toes right on the peak of the mountain, stretching his arms as far above his head as he could go, he placed his hands around the yellow shining ball, letting his finger tips set into all the dips and grooves of its surface, and he was with his love at last.
After holding his love, the man knew that it was time to return to the town and prove to the folks that he was not a fool, far from it in fact. That he was not too large, or unfit for society. He was simply the man who loved the moon. And the man that the moon loved back. So, to the town he went, and to the people he showed. Surely when the people saw that he had captured his love out of the passing sky, then they would be completely unable to let another sky pass without loving him as well. Surely they would see that he was loveable now.
He stumbled back into town, moon resting in the palm of his hands, love resting against his chest. He looked out over the townspeople who all stared right back at him. He claimed his love for the moon was true, and showed them his love that sat in his hands like a child holding a too hot bowl of soup against its chest as they waited for it to cool. The townspeople began to erupt with laughter, and the man and the moon ran for the hills before the embarrassment could become too much. The air was hot and the sun was bright like it was the only thing shining in the darkness of the night, and when they reached the top of the high mountains, the man looked out into the earth that he had rested on for the last many years, and nothing looked nearly the same. The rivers and lakes were all dried or flooding, and the grass was turning yellow like the sun was cooking meat that had been sitting outside for days. And the sky quickly ran from the massacre that sat beneath it. The sun fell beyond the reach of the far mountains, and the night had soon came upon them. But this time without the moon. Only the darkness of the night. That darkness that stretched so far, and shadowed so heavily, that you couldn't even see it if it was right in front of you. And although, for the first time ever, his love slept beside him, there in its fullness, the man slept uncomfortably in the valley for the first time in his life.